It’s not me, it’s you.

Now I see how I deserve to be treated. Now I see what it’s like to be my own person. Now I see why my friends and family couldn’t, wouldn’t be supportive of you in my life. Honestly, I’m in my mid-twenties and I’m at a point where I can’t be dating wildly inappropriate people anymore. It’s time for all of us to just grow the hell up.

You made me feel inadequate every step of the way, but fortunately I see now how completely deluded you were. I’ve got a lot to offer. And I think on some level you knew that. You knew you had something others wanted. You muted me so you could shine.

Did you mean to hurt me? Did you enjoy watching me unravel? Deliberate, frequent jabs at my hair, my shoes, my cooking. You showed no mercy, taking me down any way you could – persistent, patient. You mocked my defining characteristics. You decimated my quirks. You deflated me. You rendered me as directionless and insignificant as secondhand smoke in urban air.

And the jury is still out as to whether I can ever forgive you. The damage is done and I won’t let myself forget how small you made me feel.

You’ve set the bar – and the only place for me to go is up.

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