When you can no longer justify the end with the means

I wanted to cry but no tears came out. I ended up studying the entire day for my exam later in Public Econ, not leaving my bed even for food. I’m that type of person to just cry things off. I guess, I’m that type when I still care.

Hate and anger filled me. Until now, I’m trying to pinpoint which was worse, you breaking your promise or you lying about how you broke that promise. It was stupid. You could have just told me beforehand that you’re sorry, you can’t keep that promise. I would have felt bad but at least it was clear. That would have been way easier to understand than you making up stories about what happened.

Truth is bittersweet. Often, we ask for things we die to know. Curiosity usually leads us to bad places, especially if it’s when about something we already have a not-so-good feeling about. We still ask though, hoping to hear something else. And the truth hits you, and you just have to deal with it.

Sadly, that wasn’t what happened. It was more complex than that. You “admitted” what you did, your mistake. I felt a little better (but not fully okay) because you were honest. Pictures and posts flooded me but I defended you in my head. I defended you against my own judgments that you were lying. I made myself believe that you were being honest.

And that was my mistake.

I asked you that night, you lied. I asked you again a few days after, you lied. I asked you again a week ago, you still lied. See, I gave you a lot of chances already. And stupid me, I believed you every single time.

But just a few days ago, I learned. It was casual talking, how you guys had a good time. Imagine what I felt that time, sitting across two people who were telling the truth that happened that night. And imagine how I felt, as you try to still downplay what happened, down to the last moment, you had to lie.

You tell me you’re sorry.

You tell me you’re miserable.

You tell me to give you another chance.

You tell me that you’ll do things right the next time.

But I don’t feel you’re sorry.

What if I don’t care if you’re miserable?

What if I have no more chances to give?

How can you do things right?

 

 

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