Resignation Letter.

You say I am rude, with a bad attitude and quick to put you down. I don’t dispute this. Question is, however, why would you expect to see any other side of me when you’ve never let me be anything but? Strangers have been kinder to me. People I have only known for a few months can tell when I am having an off day. They invite me places and surprisingly enjoy my company. But you, to whom I have felt attached to since the first molecules and particles began swirling about in the creation of this universe, can’t be bothered to notice when I am in the same room as you. My bruised ego refuses to let me forget how I felt that night.

Telling you that I love you will never go beyond the page. What for? You would do nothing with those words, simply let them linger in the air and go to waste. Like the energy I expend when I get ready to see you and you never come through. Or when I try to begin and explain why I am so resentful and angry towards you. I cannot be any other way. Otherwise, my tears would drown the whole damned place and the truth would be revealed, that I am akin to a heartbroken child. That I feel like a teddy bear that’s been long-forgotten underneath a bed, collecting dust and the sour realization that it wasn’t ever important to anyone at all.

I have tried to love you. I know you know this. I always thought that I had failed. But really it’s because you never wanted me to. Like the song says, I can’t make you love me. So this is my resignation letter, several lifetimes overdue. But I have never felt more ready to hand it in. I am tired. Everyone says I’ll be alone forever. Unlovable. Little do they know, that sounds preferable to another second of the nothingness loving you has to offer.



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