November 19th, 2014. A year into our relationship. I wrote in my private journal:

Hello again, been a while since I was here. So... I don't like how things are going with her. It's just not the same. Where's the love.

So much could have been prevented if I realized that our love wasn't meant to be. Love is a bullshit word anyway, let's call it what it is. It was lust with a hefty dose of self-delusion. I first told myself I'd get to know you a bit more after our nightly activities. I wanted to give you a chance. Fucking delusional. There's a lot I didn't like about you, but your body told a different story. I fell in love with you when we discovered we enjoyed similar tv shows. You'd lose your temper at the dumbest shit, like when I lost that bus ticket. I should have seen it, it was written on the leaves.

If I would have broken up with you on that November day, perhaps I'd be over you by now. But I had to cling onto lies and false unspoken promises. Two more fucking years with someone I knew less and less.

I only regret that it took me so long to come out of your spell. You no longer have any influence in my life yet I still think about you twice a day. I was emotionally sick of your shit by 2014, it took five years to almost get you out of my soul.

Perhaps if you cheated on me, or if you at least had the courtesy to be a shittier girlfriend I would hate you. You had the audacity of being just fucking cold and distant. What the fuck was I supposed to do when the love of my life, the future mother of my kids just plain didn't want to bother responding to my texts. Oh but you didn't ghost me either. You stopped caring. You took an extra day, then it was two days to respond to my inquiries about whether or not you wanted to catch up after a couple of weeks of not seeing each other.

I made the decision of ending your little game of "I can't bother to break up with this idiot so I'll just stop caring about the relationship". I stopped it after you threw my heart in the garbage and lit the whole thing on fire.

Summer 2016, early morning:

Good morning baby! Hope you slept well, hows your morning so far?

The next day, afternoon. She replies:

Good, just eating breakfast.

I Facetime her, just to see what's up. She's immediately bored and wants to go, but before she does she proceeds to yank my beating heart and just dump it on the trash next to the old beer bottles. She says:

I don't know why you keep saying good morning to me, I never really liked it. Being in the phone makes my head hurt and I don't like looking at it.

All while having the least interested look I've ever seen. The bitch is ALWAYS using that stupid phone. I was done after that. I did not text her and waited to see how long it would be until she remembered me. A week goes by, she says some "hey hello" so I call her and I tell her I don't see her being into it anymore, so why keep up the whole charade. Always an idiot, throughout the hour or so it took to finalize the break up, I wanted her to stop me and want to change or at least say sorry. Nope. She just stood in silence.

I am not over you yet, but I will be. Fuck you, thanks.