Was it worth it?

That was the question on my mind as I stared at the pictures on your WhatsApp status. You see, I rarely view people’s WhatsApp statuses. If you want to hide something from me, put it on your WhatsApp status and I can guarantee that I’d never see it. However, today was different. I woke up feeling emotionally downcast and in a sombre mood which was weird because even though I was on my period, I didn’t get the PMS blues. Thanks to my antidepressants. So colour me surprised when I woke up feeling depressed and angry.

I tried to do some work. I did try but all I could do was scroll mindlessly through Twitter with glazed eyes. I’d taken my meds in the morning but instead of getting the usual boost, it felt like it was sucking the little energy I had left.

Frustrated, I closed Twitter and decided to force myself to do something. As I was closing all the apps on my phone, I tapped on WhatsApp to check if I had any messages that needed responding. Overwhelmed by the volume of unread messages in my inbox, I tapped on the updates icon and yours was the first thing I saw.

Again, I rarely check WhatsApp statuses. So why was it that the day I decided to, I was hit with memories and feelings that I had forgotten existed?

I have tried so hard to let you go. I have. I have done the shadow work, meditated, forgiven you, journaled, affirmed myself and done everything they say needs to be done to heal. Heck, I’m even writing two books. But nothing prepared me for the wave of sadness that hit me when I saw those pictures of you two.

That was when the sadness I’d been feeling all day started to make sense. My chest burned and my hands shook so badly I had to put my phone down and tell myself to breathe. I stared at those pictures for a long time and even though I hate to admit it, you both looked good and happy. I also hate that for you to be happy, you killed me and you didn’t care.

If you’re wondering if it hurt, yes it hurt a whole fucking lot. And it’s not because I want you back. No, I don’t. I am only hurt that you got your happy ending by fucking me over and it doesn’t look like you give a shit about how that has affected me. I am sad because the trauma you caused me is the reason I am taking antidepressants. I realise that I didn’t mean the same thing to you that you meant to me, and I can never trust you to never fuck me over again.

I am curious, did the end ever justify the means? Do you ever think of what you did? Honestly, it doesn’t even look like you do. Did what we had mean nothing to you that you were willing to throw it away so casually and nonchalantly? Did I mean so little to you that you never considered my feelings or respected me enough to even treat me with dignity? Did it ever mean anything to you? I guess I’ll never know the answers to those questions.

You should be proud of yourself. You got what you always wanted. You have won. So you can go ahead and hang the plaque on the wall, while everyone congratulates you and tells you how proud they are of you. If they ask you how you did it, smile and tell them that you took a life.

So was it worth it? The pain, betrayal, lies and heartbreak you caused me? As I look at the pictures of you two smiling, I know the answer to my question: yes, for you it was worth it.