I walked out the door.

Dear Bestfriend,

I am writing you this, because I obviously cannot find the words to speak.
Every time I open my mouth, I choked on the words that he left me with.
Every time I stare into your concerned eyes, mine fill with enough water to start a storm.
Every time I try to tell you what is going on, I cave.

I know you’ve heard this line one thousand times.
About how he’s hurt me.
And let me down.
Or how he’s just interested in playing games.
I swear I could copy and paste our conversations over and over again,
Because it would be easier than re-writing the same bullshit that he hand delivers to me in replace of the flowers that most boyfriends bring to Sunday night dinner.

I know that every time I crawl to you, with black mascara streaked down my face, and my hands shaking with sadness I break your heart in a way that he broke mine.

But I also know that every time you have to pick me back up the floor, you stand taller than before and repeat to me the same advice.
You tell me that you love me.
And you hold me until my body stops trembling.
And you send me on my way – to make my own decision – and decide my own heartbreak.

I know that you’ve heard this a thousand times.
And I know that each time I go back to him you shake your head and wait out the storm.

Because lets face it, you are smarter than me.
And he isn’t your kryptonite.

So now I am standing here.
Once again.
With my bags packed and my big girl face plastered on in stone.

But I am asking you to please be patient.
And to please be strong.
And to tell me once again that he is no good for me.
And that this is for the best.
And that I deserve a boy, no a man, that is going to fight for me – not with me.

I need you to tell me all the things that you’ve told me one million times – just a few more times.
Because this time when he broke me,
I walked out the door.

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