“That’s a real serious question, it would shock anyone into silence. What did you expect him to say?”

“But is it? Was it that shocking in our circumstance? He knew I fucking adored him, he knew I would do anything for him. He knew he was my one. Was it so outrageous? So serious and out of place of me?”

That he had no words to say back to me in the proceeding 8 months. 8 – long – months. He had nothing but silence to give me in return.

What did I expect him to say? Anything. Something.

He could have been logical, he could have been matter of fact, he could have been mean. Like maybe he could have said, “I wish it was that easy M. You know I’d love to marry you, you’d be the best wife, we would have the cutest babies, you would be the perfect mum. But you know it’s not that easy.” Or, “I’m no way near where you are. I don’t want to get married. I don’t see myself married anytime soon. You know me, I can’t settle down. Move on.” OR even, “Whoa, slow down babe, where did that come from? This is just a physical thing for me.”


He could have said anything. But no he decided to ignore me, to not respond to me in my most exposed, vulnerable moment ever. I don’t even remember how the hell I got through that; I remember I would open the text message and reread my own question, staring back at me, an empty space after it – nothing, where his response should have been. I remember thinking, Well at least there is nothing more I’d be tempted to say to him after: ‘will you marry me?’ I remember calculating how many days it had been since he opened the message but never responded. I remember seeing him out of courtesy to my friends, looking up saying hi, sitting at the dinner table across from him and thinking: you still haven’t responded.

It’s like he trumped everything he had done to me in the past three years with one final blow. I forgot all those things, I’ll forget this too. But, there is still a hole in my heart. It’s not his – it’s just a hole. It’s heeling now.

I don’t want to wish you pain, burning, fire, karma, heartbreak, or unhappiness. I don’t want to waste my wishes on you anymore. I want this to be the last time I cry because of you. I want you to know that I don’t care for you anymore, I never will again.

Miss Mess



About iheartmess

A Middle Eastern Londoner 20-something living the 'western' life in between London and home.
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