It’s not you, it’s me. Actually, that’s not strictly true. I should probably be straight with you. I owe you that much. And if I’m being perfectly honest, this is something I’ve been wanting to do for a long time now. I just wasn’t ready. Remember when we took a break for those few weeks? I wanted to see what it would be like to get through a whole day without you, to see if I could do it. Sometimes I was fine, I’d get caught up in something and forget all about you.
But other times — especially late at night or while I was just hanging around waiting — there would be this pull. This restlessness that made me want to pull out my phone and see what you were up to, what I had been missing. (I became convinced that I was missing something.) Then I’d see some random photo you’d taken. That smile! Did you use a filter? I told myself it didn’t matter. … You posted about a cool dish you’d whipped up or described a Netflix show you’d binge-watched. Of course, I’d rush and binge-watch it, too, so we could talk about it later. Your GIFs and memes were funny and on point, obviously, and every now and then you’d catch me out by sharing an article so insightful and unexpected that I’d fall in love with you all over again. You still had the ability to surprise me, after all this time.
When I caved and eventually got back with you, though, it was always the same bulls**t. The same arrogant selfies of your marathon times and exotic trips and various accolades. The humble brags about whatever selfless, woke thing you just did and immediately announced to your 500-plus friends. The same vacuous complaints. Blah blah blah. You should really hear yourself sometimes. If you care so much, get off your keyboard and do something about climate change/white privilege/various things. IRL. LOL. No, instead, you went on spouting the same nuisance ads and algorithms.
Whenever we disagreed, you went straight for the jugular. You got so ugly at times, I hardly recognized you. You said things — things that are too ugly to repeat here. Things you can never take back. But we were together so long, I’ll admit I got complacent toward the end. I got lazy, distracted. I never picked up the phone, barely texted. We were both just skimming the surface. We let ourselves get superficial. We didn’t really know what was going on behind the screen, and we never asked. We became boring, predictable. You became boring and predictable. There, I said it. You haven’t changed. But I have to stop expecting you to change. That’s on me.