I could forgive everything, even despite the rationalism and logics telling me to leave you forever, but not another woman. That was your choice, out of all ways in the world.
The world keeps turning, uncaring, while I’m trapped in this memory, this ache.
Remembering you isn’t a choice; it’s a sentence. A life sentence, served in the prison of my own heart….
Now I have to remember you for longer than I knew you. A cruel trick of time, this. A whisper of a life, echoing in the vast emptiness left behind. I clutch at fragments: sunlight on your hair, a hesitant smile. They’re fading, like old photographs, but they’re all I have.
When you spend 200 euros on Airbnb where you didn’t even sleep a single night, but on the last day you get free coffee and 5-7 stolen teabags. Success story.
Not to mention it’s not the first time a d not even the second he had kicked me out of his home. At night. Then he thinks he just calls and it’s okay????
3 days of my long-awaited holiday I spent on moving stuff from one room to another, from one Airbnb to a new one, from one flat to another one. And all of this instead of enjoying holidays, having a trip, resting before a new work week. I work so fucking hard in my company, but
he is just a parasite. He feeds on my misery and can’t bear when I’m happy. I work so fucking hard to have this money, but now it’s wasted for nothing. And after that he dares to text me and ask me to call as if nothing happened???