You give me the kind of feeling people write novels about. I mean that in the worst way possible. I mean the kind of novels that make you cry when you’re writing them and when you’re reading them.

I don’t know how we got here. I have no idea what tricks of fate and destiny lead us to be where we are now. What I do know is that this feeling is familiar and I hate that. This is an endless cycle of you constantly letting me down.

For so long I have waited, hoped, wished and based everything I’ve done on you and maximising my chances of seeing you or talking to you. But this is it. The end of the line. From now on I will not stare at the phone waiting for a message, a call, a voice of hope. From now on I will walk forward when I see you and I will move forward. I will not search for you in crowds or hope to get surprise visits at work. From now on, things will be for me, for my benefit and you won’t be a deciding factor.

You never told me how you really felt. There were snippets. Titbits. But the truth was never told. I haven’t heard the full story. And I don’t think you’ll ever tell me. At least, not until you’ve realised no other woman is going to even consider accepting you and your shady antics. And as much as I don’t want to, I can’t think about anything other than you. And I hate it.

You could never accept that there was definitely something strong between us. You hide behind your ego. But when the shadows faded and the real you emerged, another barrier rose. You’d tell me you didn’t want to get hurt again. Well, to be honest, you telling me that hurt me. For you to think that I would do anything like what she did to you proved to me that you didn’t know me. You don’t know me. And I don’t think you want to. Not until you realise that I’m it. But I’m not always going to be here.

So here’s what I want. I want you. I want to you to want me. I want you to want me first. I want there to be no one else. I want it to be me.

So here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to stop dwelling. I’m going to stop watching the phone. I’m going to stop looking for you. I’m going to move on. I’m going to meet people. I’m going to live.

I’m going to forget all the nights I spent wishing you were here.

I’m going to forget the times that it was just us.

I’m going to forget the things that shouldn’t have happened.

I’m going to forget all the times I opened myself up to let you in, to only get hurt in return.

I’m going to forget how I felt about you.

Instead, I’m going to subconsciously wait. If you really want me, if you miss me, if you can’t breathe without me, you’ll know. You’ll ring. You’ll text. You’ll visit. And if you drift, if you don’t call, if there’s no texts, if there’s no visits. I’ll know. I’ll know it was never meant to be. And I will continue moving on. And I’m going to walk tall.

But in between everything I will forget, I won’t forget the lesson I’ve learnt. I won’t forget the feeling of loving someone. I won’t forget the feeling of thinking I’m loved. And I will certainly not forget the hell I was put through to learn all this, to become a better person.