When I do tell my friends we are no longer together, I tell them it was the distance. I omit that it was not physical, but rather emotional. Parts of me silenced during our relationship struggling to find the right words for you to understand me. Getting lost in a downward spiral of self-loathing for not even being able to understand my emotions when I knew I was hurting. Pretending I could bounce back because you would judge me for being weak. An aspect of my being you would not let me forget. A part of me we both knew brought you great shame. A reminder when we went to an amusement park and I was not ready to go on rollercoasters, a fear that I had faced once and decided not to do again. A boundary you were not willing to understand, but deal with. A moment of pure weakness when I broke down in tears at the food court begging you to understand, and you simply reminding me that your brother was judging me.

When I do tell my sisters that breaking up with you was hard, I dive into the fact that breaking up with you felt like I had failed. Maybe I failed us, but I certainly did not fail myself.

When I do tell those around me that you were a great boyfriend, I skip over the parts where you made me question my love for you. Your silent demeanour that would make me feel guilty for voicing my opinion, or the fact that you once told me you thought you did not love me, and hoped that one day you would. Or the way you would remind me that there were things lacking in me. An anniversary dinner where we cheered to hopefully growing together not apart. Moments that I ignored in hopes of you just being silly, praying I was wrong about you.

When I do tell young girls that falling in love feels amazing. I hope they do not meet someone who makes them feel that they are not enough. I hope they do not question themselves and spend hours thinking of ways to improve themselves for a man. I hope they are not consuming themselves in a way that I let you consume me. Parts of me erased to make room for you.

When I do tell my parents that your parents were kind, I stop myself and get reminded that they also felt I was not good enough for you. I no longer fear telling them how I loathed spending time in your home, knowing your parents did not want me there. Knowing that your sibling no longer liked me. I no longer let that shame consume me. I have accepted that it had nothing to do with me, but everything to do with their own prejudice. Maybe I did feel some anger towards my parents, for not judging you as harshly. For being so welcoming to you. However, I now realize they trusted their daughter in finding a partner, a trust that was not extended to you.

When I do think of you, I no longer romanticize the good days. I remind myself of the way you would tell me I was not good enough, but loved how much I tried. A backhanded compliment that would make me feel calm, yet furious. It leaves me wondering why I felt the need to adhere to your expectations when you would proudly state “I won’t change for a partner“. Compromise was something I adhered to in our relationship. I started resenting myself for being so understanding. For defending your explanations to my mother who would sometimes overhear our calls. Telling her that it was not what you meant, but knowing she was right.

When I did move on, I realized I walked away with an immense amount of self-loathing. A luggage full of insecurity and self-doubt neatly packed under my arm as we said goodbye for the last time, I wondered if you would ever feel the same way I did. If you ever would feel weighed down by comments your partner’s parents made. I hoped you would one day meet someone who you would love the way I loved you. I secretly wished your next partner’s parents would make the same comments about you that your parents made about me. Maybe then you would understand what I felt. Would you ever think back and accept that your parents were in our relationship filling your head with negative thoughts about me?

When you do cross my mind now, I no longer think of the good times, but the moments I felt alone in our relationship. Begging my partner to understand that I was hurt and hearing a lukewarm justification that I need to push through.

When I do decide to forgive you, I will not forget the pain and tears you caused me. I will not ignore the moments I felt alone in my relationship. I will not ignore the nights I hoped I was the woman you would choose or the hours I spent scrutinizing my body thinking I was not good enough. Maybe I will never forgive you, because judgment was something that your family reserved for me, and forgiveness is something I will hold back from when it comes to them.