u/Haunting-Shoulder872

I remember your words, like a monologue that seemed honest to me, until the pain you felt from losing me. There is a real lucidity in what you write, even if it comes too late. You write well, I'll admit it. I would have liked to say: "you know how to love me, I'll admit it". But that, you never knew how to do.

I learned to live without you.

So learn to live with what you did to me.

I transformed the pain you gave me into a life you no longer belong to. I found peace where you caused damage.

I leave with the clarity of someone who expects nothing more from a man who never knew how to love me, only how to hurt me. I am not your crash test, nor your punching bag. I was the woman who loved you without ever asking you for the smallest favor. I should have taken everything from you, maybe then you would have loved me.

I offer you my silence like a door closing. My departure is clean, and final. I finally gave myself the courage to close this painful chapter of my life.

The real closure, the one that stings like salt in a wound, is the silence that says: "you are not even important enough for my anger anymore. I offer you the emptiness of your existence, far from me."

I regret having known you.

I broke the screen that separated me from you, forever.

You don't exist for me anymore.

Not a little. Not halfway. Not at all.

You never had a heart. You never had kind words for me, for my religion, for my soul.

You stole other people's sentences. You dressed them up to your size to make it seem like they came from you. But you are incapable.

Incapable of loving properly, incapable of being loved simply. You are a plague for every woman who crosses your path. Who hears your voice and reads your eyes. You are the innocence-shattering void.

I lost nothing. I never had anything from you, and I'm happy about that. I owe you nothing. You, you took and you appropriated the talent and intelligence of others.

Your laugh? A noise. Your eyes? I invented them. Your voice? I dreamed it. You? A blank page pretending to write to me, through bots as empty as the pages of the book bearing your name.

Eight thousand kilometers. I should have thanked you. Distance buried you before I could suffer. I didn't suffer. I was duped. That's worse. But it's over.

I don't say goodbye. You don't say goodbye to a virus. You turn it off.

You are empty. Hollow. Flat. You're not even cruel. A rock is meaner than you. At least it crushes. You, you ooze.

I don't hate you anymore. Hatred is still warm. Me, I am cold. I look at you. You are nothing.

The screen is dead. I killed it. No ice. No pond. Just a plug you unplug.

You wanted my soul? It doesn't know you. You wanted my body? It never touched you. You just wanted someone to believe you. I don't believe anything anymore. Except this: you are no one.

I am happy. For real. Not sad. Not angry, well, just a little, but happy to no longer be attached to a vile being like you. Happy to have stopped before my love for you devoured me whole. Happy to have smelled the lie before it stank like you. Happy to have woken up, without you!

You, you will never wake up. You are already dead. You were born like this. Without a soul. Without substance. A borrow-nothing.

Go. Disappear. That's all you know how to do.

I turn the page. It is white. And that's better that way.

I don't love you anymore, I never loved you. Do you remember "I never loved you?" Those are the words of all the women who mattered to you, even those who never really loved you and those you never respected, and in the end, they understood, like me, that with you they were in denial of fake love. Fake like you.

I don't say goodbye to you, because you don't deserve anything from me anymore.

​

I always told myself: if not here, not now, in this universe, then it will be in death, after life, or in another life, another universe. But I lied. I wanted you here, now, in my arms, against my lips, melting into me. I wanted you always, with so much patience that you burned all your cards.

Night replaced day so many times, during those two years without you. And yet I still believed.

You destroyed the beautiful, powerful image I had of you. You were my husband. We were wife and husband, bound by a pact whose name only we knew. You sealed our love with a kiss.

You lied to me. You betrayed me. You lost me in the fumes of other women's perfumes, marking your skin with a scent destructive to me. You were my little sun that shone only for me.

Today I am just a woman screaming your name at the edge of a cliff, and I feel my body tipping into the void of my existence. I hate you so many times, and even more. I hate you as I say it. Each "I hate you" carries away a shard of my pain.

You annihilated me so many times.

I find a shred of pride in destroying the bond that united me to you. I no longer give you my happiness, nor my future. Only hatred. And peace, for myself.

I hate you.

I always told myself: if not here, not now, in this universe, then it will be in death, after life, or in another life, another universe. But I lied. I wanted you here, now, in my arms, against my lips, melting into me. I wanted you always, with so much patience that you burned all your cards.

Night replaced day so many times, during those two years without you. And yet I still believed.

You destroyed the beautiful, powerful image I had of you. You were my husband. We were wife and husband, bound by a pact whose name only we knew. You sealed our love with a kiss.

You lied to me. You betrayed me. You lost me in the fumes of other women's perfumes, marking your skin with a scent destructive to me. You were my little sun that shone only for me.

Today I am just a woman screaming your name at the edge of a cliff, and I feel my body tipping into the void of my existence. I hate you so many times, and even more. I hate you as I say it. Each "I hate you" carries away a shard of my pain.

You annihilated me so many times.

I find a shred of pride in destroying the bond that united me to you. I no longer give you my happiness, nor my future. Only hatred. And peace, for myself.

I hate you.

I always told myself: if not here, not now, in this universe, then it will be in death, after life, or in another life, another universe. But I lied. I wanted you here, now, in my arms, against my lips, melting into me. I wanted you always, with so much patience that you burned all your cards.

Night replaced day so many times, during those two years without you. And yet I still believed.

You destroyed the beautiful, powerful image I had of you. You were my husband. We were wife and husband, bound by a pact whose name only we knew. You sealed our love with a kiss.

You lied to me. You betrayed me. You lost me in the fumes of other women's perfumes, marking your skin with a scent destructive to me. You were my little sun that shone only for me.

Today I am just a woman screaming your name at the edge of a cliff, and I feel my body tipping into the void of my existence. I hate you so many times, and even more. I hate you as I say it. Each "I hate you" carries away a shard of my pain.

You annihilated me so many times.

I find a shred of pride in destroying the bond that united me to you. I no longer give you my happiness, nor my future. Only hatred. And peace, for myself.

I hate you.

The days pass. They all look the same. Same grey light. Same background noise. Same bed too big. Same phone that doesn't ring.

But at night… ah, night is something else entirely.

At night, my pain doesn't sleep. It wakes up. It settles in my chest like a familiar beast and devours anything that resembles hope. At night, his absence becomes a wall against which I beat my fists until they bleed. At night, I go over our messages a hundred times. Those words that were all we had. Those silences between replies. Those nights spent inventing a presence we couldn't touch.

We never saw each other. Never. Not once.

Just two hearts that believed they shared a single soul. Just a connection made of pixels. Of promises. Of "one day." Just something virtual that became visceral. And yet this pain is real. It doesn't sleep. It doesn't lie. It keeps me awake, eyes wide open in the dark, staring at the dead screen where nothing lights up anymore.

I wait for dawn like a condemned man waits for mercy. I wait for the sky to pale, for the first ray to come through my curtains, for the day to tell me: "One more." One more day without him. One more day of pretending. One more day of smiling at others, of saying "I'm fine," of stuffing my pain into a box too small that always ends up exploding when I'm alone.

The nights grow longer. My pain deepens. It's not light. It's not fleeting. It's my weight. It's my only proof that I still love him. And I carry it. I drag it. I warm it like poison.

I want to move on. I want it to the bone. But moving on first means accepting that he won't come back. That this absence will never be filled. That there will be no last message. No sign. No "I was thinking of you." Nothing. Just these fading pixels. Just this story that never had a body.

So I stay here. Between the night that kills me and the dawn that lies to me.

Between the infinite love I have for him and the infinite void he left me.

I don't want to wait anymore. But I wait anyway.

Because waiting is still a way of not saying goodbye.

I need a loving man. His warmth against my back. A hand that stays. A presence that doesn't make me earn being loved. A gaze. An embrace. Something real. Something alive.

But tonight, there's only him.

And this pain that never stops.

Even when the sun rises.

I will love you for a long time. I will love you forever. But it's time for me to meet another love… A more real one this time… MMTY babe.