“We accept the love we think we deserve.”
― Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower
I loved him, loved him more than I could’ve imagined.
This was the very reason why I had to let him go. I loved him too much to allow him to get dragged down with a person like me. I prevented him from the perfect life- he had a perfect home, perfect friends, a perfect life if it weren’t for his girlfriend.
It’s possible that he would be upset for a short time but it is for the best- just keep telling yourself that, it might make this remotely bearable.
I didn’t realise I was crying until I saw the tears drop down on the note I was writing.
Not so much a note as a line.
We accept the love we think we deserve.
I had to tell him- in person, there was no point in putting it off any longer.
Every time I took a turn, I pass a place with a reminder of him. The corner where he first asked me out, I looked into his eyes and saw a story. Outside the shop where we had our first kiss, he brushed my hair out of my face and kissed me- my first real kiss.
The park bench. The place where he said he loved me, and hugged me. That’s where we stood a while and we didn’t need words.
Now this was it. I just had to remind myself that I wasn’t good enough for him.
I sat on the park bench as he approached me. “What’s wrong?” he asked with general concern. Fuck. He knew me too well. I looked away from the ground up into his sad eyes. I wasn’t gonna cry again. “I love you, you have to know that.” He smiled weakly and choked out, “I know and I love you.”
I don’t think it’s gonna work out
It’s not you it’s me
Every break up line I could think of but there wasn’t one that was right- only one thing to do, be honest.
“You have a perfect life with a perfect home and perfect friends. I know you love me but I don’t think I deserve you. I mean I’m damaged goods, right? That’s what your friends call people like me. It’s better I don’t drag you down with me.” It all came out like one hot mess. I wanted to fight for him, with him. Instead I chose the cowards way out- just as I was about to run, he grabbed my arm. I pull me close, he pulled my waist close to him and he looked at me with such despair. I have seen this very look before, it was the same one he had when he asked me out, it was sadness. A look someone his age shouldn’t have mastered. But there it was and it’s too bad I wouldn’t be there to know the reason behind it. I knew him and I knew he wouldn’t let me go without a fight.
“Look, before you go, you have to know something. Here come round mine, I have to show you something.”
I thought about it, he never did invite me around before. I just couldn’t. It would make it even harder- for both of us.
That was two weeks ago. Now I stand in the place I said I wouldn’t.
I stood in his room.
It was nothing like I thought it was. I imagined a boys room- posters, clothes everywhere, desk covered with papers. In reality, it was nothing like that. The moment I walked in I could feel the coldness, I felt it to my very soul.
It reminded me of a prison cell rather than anything else. Dark walls, inhumanly neat- the few things in their had a place. Just the bare essentials.
His bed, that’s what he had wanted me to see. Not to sleep with me, no, it was more than that. It was sinister- it was the truth I never got to know. Over his bed there were engravings on the wall in fact, I was more like chicken scratches.
Every word showed how wrong I was about him. He was far from having the perfect life.
As it turns out his parents fought constantly, divorce would have been better rather than him seeing his mum -I quote- “getting treated like shit and beaten”.
His friends, well, I knew they were dicks but not towards him. He has never felt so alone until he met-
And I turned out to be the worst one. He had his own problems and not once did I ask. I’d assumed his life was perfect but it was far from it.
One of the worst things is that he believed he didn’t deserve me.
Now every reminder, tainted with the dark truth. The look in his eyes where he asked me out- that was more than a story, that foreshadowed a tragedy.
Our first kiss he brushed me hair away, I could remember the pale bruises on his arms. The thought of not knowing how they got there would be the worst thing of all. The thoughts going through my head that was enough to make a person break down. It was enough to make me break down. The strangest thing was I didn’t cry, I didn’t scream, I didn’t even move.
I stood there like a statue, a statue cracking and falling apart. I swear that in that moment I felt something inside of break.
One thought continually preoccupied my mind, it’s the time where we just stood there in an embrace, where for once in my life words weren’t need and completely useless. I ignored those silent sobs, I heard in my ear.
The last words were what would haunt me forever.
The cruel bitter irony cut through me like a knife.
I wished someone ripped my heart out right then.
We accept the love we think we deserve.