Star-written words from your self-inebriated ex-love...

I find it selfish, the things I do. To scoff, in disgust, saying you run my mental health askew—yet still yearn for some of the things you'd do. I've moved on. I dance with another, but with him, I sleep to melodies of when you and I held each other. And we never even met. Because while he holds my body, you held me... but I do not love you, and I do not love him, and while you do, he does not love me.

Sometimes, I wish I could have loved you... but, truth be told, you were more than too much. You needed me. The weight of your heart, your sanity, you forced it on me. I am not equipped to coddle a man like you. How can you need a stranger? I never understood because I never needed you, and you always fussed about that. But again—strangers. You never gave me the chance to want you, let alone need you. Not with your childish, narcissistic stride. Not with your bare, unmoving ways. I won't lie, in the beginning, I was attracted. But as my mantra persists, I must remind you that we were strangers, and I was blinded by the mystic air of what could be.

Lovers are meant to grow. That aching need, undying love... should be formed. It was not genuine to me. Not real. I felt I was sheltering your heart more than learning to just hold it. Because you wanted love from the beginning...

Can't you see how that's a lot for a stranger to expect?

Yet, here I am flooded with guilt, because I led you on and then let you go. All out of fear... the fear of hurting you, an inevitable feat. Because you were moving way too fast, and when I tried to speak up, you were listening, but too wrapped in the artificial love you'd created to hear me. You ignited that chaos. You did that, but I am still at fault, and I won't deny that. We were both wrong. The two of us. Us both, separate, or together.

You never heard me. Your feelings were stronger, so you'd act like they meant more. Am I supposed to learn to love someone like that? You're selfish, too, and this is why my guilt is only momentary.

I led you on, I did. But you attempted to manipulate me, make a fool of the kind patter of my heart. You tried to gaslight my soul, but I always see it before I feel it. So I withdrew. Why would I, three days into knowing a stranger, be willing to drop my protective facade? By you, I was told to emotionally spill onto you, to lay myself out bare, naked, into your gaping eyes. Because we loved and trusted each other. And before you misinterpret, puzzle, and make a mess of my words like you always have—I, of course, mean metaphorically. I always had to clarify things with you, so here, I am saying—you expected me to open up to you, cry to you, and tell you my problems just three days into knowing one another. You fool, you unknowingly shoved me away.

You deserve love, but you need to love yourself first. This cliché line... fits you. Because it's nothing far from the truth. I may have weaned you towards your mental destruction, but you and your incompetent stagger had been leading you there anyway. In an attempt to find love, when you are in no space to, you fall onto dependency. Your happiness begins to rely on another, your mental begins to break in their awakening. You won't want them to leave. So your words, and your actions, have no capacity—as long as the one you want stays.

You need to feel needed, but you offer nothing that I need. I don't need to feel insignificant, or stuck, forced into a maternal position when I've barely the breasts of a mother. I don't need to raise a man—not when you know my biggest goal in life is to raise a child. I would like to taste motherhood through the cries of my own wing-laden babe... not you, a stranger. A man.

As harsh as my words may be, you truly mean nothing to me. Your adoration was beautiful, a kaleidoscope of colors to my dull skies. But that quickly burned into an odd obsession, and your anger—your uncontrollable wrath, became my bad days.

Maybe unbeknownst to you, but you have an unbearable façade.You are impatient, yet you claim patience.You are not understanding, yet adamant so. You are the most hypocritical hypocrite, and I haven't the heart to love a man drunk on his own failures.

I am not the one who forced you where you are, so why must you blame me when things get hard?

Our faults are our faults, not just yours, and not just mine. But your shortcomings lie solely on you, and mine me.