I’d say we were on pretty good terms when we started out. It started the way all typical relationships do: that one friend that you never really notice until you grow a little bit more, and some unidentifiable catalyst suddenly causes you to see him/her in a different light…
I’d say we formed a good bond. We were so strong in the beginning. We were good together. We were smart together. We computed, the result was nothing but the letter A. Top-of-the-class. Perfect. I don’t mean to insult your dignity, but before…well, I thought you were kind of easy. You were so predictable. I always got what I expected, and it only took a little bit of logic to figure you out. And that’s why I never felt the need or compulsion to cheat.
To quote Selena Gomez, “Everything comes naturally when you’re with me, baby.” And it did. All the time.
So what happened to us? Guess we went where all bad relationships go. Unfortunately, this location hasn’t fully been defined yet.
You did to me what you do to all your unfortunate victims: after years of a deceptively happy and satisfactory relationship, you showed a new face. This one was much harsher, more ruthless. That’s when I realised that you weren’t as easy as I thought. That’s when our relationship started breaking.
The thing is, you always made me believe that it was my fault – that I was the one who was failing you! But somehow we trudged through it. After we got past the first hurdle in our relationship, I thought what too many victims of abuse tend to think after the abuser comes back on hands and knees, with an absurd, pleading expression: I said, “Oh, maybe he’s not so bad after all. Let me give him another chance.” Oh dear. What a mistake!
These days, it feels like I’m being abused by you left, right and centre. I don’t even know what to do anymore. You’ve made me cry more times in the past few months than just about any other factor in my life. (Get the joke?) Now I think I hate you, but even I am not sure.
Perhaps it is, in fact, all my fault. Maybe I’m the one who’s an infidel. I found another love to fill the space you once occupied, and he has filled it to overflowing capacity. But is he really my other love, or merely my first? I can’t truthfully say I ever actually loved you. And maybe deceiving myself is the reason we’re in this position. Because to be honest, you haven’t really changed. You never change, actually. I just find it harder and harder to understand you. Maybe I’m changing. I feel like I’m not as smart as I once was.
So now we’re a messed up couple. But it’s fine, because I only have to be with you for a little while longer. After that, I’m free to leave. And I think that’s really the best thing for both of us. There are far too many people more interested in you than I am for me to keep trying to deceive myself that we should continue being together.
I’ve decided therefore that I’m going to make things at least look as if they work, so nobody asks any questions, least of all you. We’re going to look like we’re getting by comfortably, you hear? And it’s going to be such a great façade that not a soul is going to suspect, by looking at the outside, how much hate I actually harbour for you inside my heart; how much what I’m looking forward to the most is ditching you after high school.
Let’s face it: we’re not useless on our own. But we’re not compatible together either.
I have about a year and a couple of months left with you, math. And when I graduate and start my new course, we’re going to leave everyone wondering in supreme bafflement, “What happened?”