four years for what
'Should I even bother? Is it worth the effort?'
We fought for the first time. But it felt like the world around me was crashing down. I sat on the grass with my legs crossed as I stared at my computer, scrolling through picture after picture of us. We seemed so happy. Seemed. Our smiles were undeniable and we were so incredibly immersed in the honeymoon stage. People around us were jealous, they double tapped all our Instagram photos, and commented with hundreds of emojis. We enjoyed it. We basked in the attention others shined on us.
I was so happy.
And then it hit. Our first fight. But it wasn't the fight, it's what changed afterwards. I would wake up in the morning and dread having to reply back to his messages. They annoyed me. Each and every one. Every sweet word made my blood boil and some days I would just stare at them and flip my phone on its face. I would let the calls ring and ring and ring...
When people asked me how we were I would reply with, "It's good! Yeah."
When they asked me how we were, "We're fine! Yeah."
When they asked me if I was happy, "Yeah."
And that's how it went. For four years.
There were some moments that made me smile. Sometimes I'd see sides to him that I first fell in love with. The passion, the drive, the way he talked... there were some moments when they shined through. We'd hit a topic and nothing could stop us. There were some days when I'd walk through my day with a smile on my face, it was inexplicable but it was there. But there were days that no amount of crying and screaming and kicking could get me out of. I hit the wall and asked myself over and over again, "Why is this happening? Why am I still here? Why am I putting myself through this misery?" Tears would stream down my face but I could never bring myself to do it. I wrote letter after letter and ripped each one to shreds only to bury them at the bottom of the recycling bin. I would type reason after reason and reason with my friends, but none of them could get me out of this. I told myself this was unhealthy. But I was scared. I was scared of what people would think.
He was perfect. I knew he was perfect, the world knew he was perfect. But he was too perfect. It was too much for me to handle. I had just wanted a normal guy that wore jeans and sneakers with a simple t-shirt. A baggy t-shirt even. I didn't care if he had a six pack or had a perfect GPA. I didn't care. I wanted someone who would love me for me, not for the assets I brought with me.
Yet here I was. I was stuck. Now if I left I knew everyone would say I couldn't handle him or that I wasn't good enough so I decided to find someone more in my "league." It became a pride thing.
Four years passed and he broke up with me. I don't know how I felt. Did I love him? Did I want to love him? I'm not sure. All I know is that as I walked away from him, a shy smile spread across my face and I teared up because I was free. But the tear ran down my face as I realized that I had wasted 4 years and waited too long to feel these emotions.
Do I regret it? I don't think I will.
Would I go back and do it differently? Definitely not.
So what is this?
What is this that I am feeling?
***THIS IS NOT ABOUT A REAL BOY I AM JUST WRITING, MY RELATIONSHIPS DON'T LAST FOR MORE THAN 2 MONTHS LET ALONE 4 YEARS***