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warnings: angst, break ups, trust issues, mentions of cheating, and mark isn't really a good boyfriend
The words hit you like a truck, a very heavy truck with a bunch of cargo and cement and- it hurt. You knew it was coming but somehow it still hurt you to hear him say,
"I think we should break up."
The phrase replayed in your head, it made you dizzy. It made you sick to your stomach. As much as you could tell Mark was losing interest in you, the relationship, you still couldn't believe he would just drop it on you. So suddenly.
You thought he'd at least fake his love for a little bit longer but that wasn't the case. You had put so much time and effort into this relationship to make him happy. Even when he left you lonely when you both slept under the same covers, even when he ignored you when you simply just wanted to go out to eat, even when you caught him cheating on you with a close friend.
You stayed and continued to smile. Too scared to flip and cuss him out because you just wanted someone to actually stay. Pathetic you were, and still are. You realized how pathetic you really were when you started begging.
Mark couldn't even look at you as you did so. Tears falling down the apple of your cheeks like a never-ending waterfall, words clogging your throat, you blubbered excuses hoping he'd at least listen to one. One of your sad excuses of why he should stay.
"Why?" Is all you could choke out between your obnoxious tears. You couldn't even be made at him, he had your best interest at heart. Didn't he? He still cared and love you, of course he did.
"We aren't a good match. We never were." He responded bluntly, clawing your hands off of the knees of his jeans. Your hands landed on the cold floor of your kitchen. You looked down at your blurry reflection in the shiny tile. Embarrassing, so, so embarrassing.
Why couldn't you just let him leave? He did no good to you or put anything more than his presence in the relationship. And at that his presence was barely noticeable. The excessive crying was starting to wear you out. Your own reflection was practically telling you to "stop the tears".
"Goodbye." You could faintly hear over your own self-pity that you currently drowned in. As the door closed, you tallied another person on your chalk board that had walked out of your life. Leaving you to pick up and put back together the cracked up pieces they left you with.
Like they had all taken a sledgehammer after you had handed your heart to them and smashed it, smashed it with no remorse. None of them cared, and soon neither would you. They all did this to you, Mark did this.
