It has been approximately three weeks since you decided that I wasn’t worth your time. And that’s ok. It really is. Unfortunately, I really liked you – even before the mess of falling in love and not being quite up to your standards.
When you decided that we shouldn't speak anymore, I did quite well for the first few days. It was almost a relief to know that I didn’t need to check my phone, because – as you told me - you’d “spoken to some friends” and they had agreed that it was best for you to stay away from the little crazy lady.
After those first few days though, the silence really set in. I was an absolute nightmare. I wasn’t leaving the house, I wasn’t eating properly and I couldn’t sleep. I still can’t sleep, in fact, and I’m not a massive fan of leaving the house. Also, if I’m being really honest, the eating thing may never go away. I’m not exactly blaming you for all of these things, because I was cripplingly unstable before I met you, but I think you should take SOME responsibility.
Really, I'm still angry with you. I think that what you've done is nothing short of cowardly. By refusing to speak to me, you have ensured that you don't have to deal with any of the aftermath of this break-up or whatever, and have left me to cope with it.
Also, lest we forget, I never even wanted to get involved with you. I made an excellent case against it, as I’m sure you remember, but you ignored everything I said and pursued me regardless. You may recall saying things like " I love you" and "I want to build a life with you". You know, that kind of sleazy, manipulative bollocks that unfortunate-looking little whelps like me will fall for in a heartbeat.
But then you got bored. Or met someone else. I’m not entirely sure which one came first.
The thing is, in spite of all that, I can’t allow you to simply disappear. It took a lot of effort – much more than you realise – for me to allow you into my life, and it would be awful to let all of that personal growth go to waste.
I realise that the prospect of spending the rest of your life with a girl who – by anyone’s standards – should be under the care of a full psychiatric team could possibly have frightened you off a bit, but I can assure you that being friends would be quite different. At the very least, it would ease my inner-monologue a little bit and stop me stalking your twitter page, obsessing over conversations between you and your new girlfriend.
If you ever had any respect for me AT ALL, you’ll be the one who sends the first message. We said we’d be friends and it’s about time you started acting like you care.
Update (23.02.2012): I take it all back. Let's not bother.