I’ve been wanting to write this for awhile and I finally found time to do so.
Feedback is much appreciated.
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I knew I had to make a change when your handwritten notes read more and more like receipts.
Scribbles of “this means so much” or “you didn’t have to get me (insert list of gifts here)” looked like typed transactions, convincing me to spend more and visit again with a simple “Thank You.”
My savings account started to regurgitate chunks of change I had earned the previous semester. My checking account stomached less than the required amount to survive. Week by week, I would hand feed my checking all my savings was willing to spit out just so I could see your eyes light up each time my debit card would swipe (swipe, swipe) through.
It was only a couple months before my card had checked out. Both accounts had yo-yoed between being full and then empty. I didn’t know how to tell my family I was spending money on someone I didn’t even love.
I was spending all of my time with you. My time and your time became OUR time. Days were shortly lit and burned away fast as you sucked me dry. I would let nights linger among us and dread the sun peeking into our room. Each time the sun would rise it’d be your light bulb and another topic to argue about, another quirk of mine to tamper with would pop in your head.
“Why did you say this?” translated to “There’s a sale going on (insert store here)” because reaching for my wallet always kept you satisfied. I stopped picking up the check and your “Thank You” notes were less frequent. I missed seeing you retrieve a folded up note from your pocket or being greeted with one each morning at coffee, so I put my accounts on a strict diet.
You started contributing more to the restaurant bills or parking meters, but would keep your earnings pocketed when I started liking the change.
I stopped putting money towards your personal fund and daytime into your nights when you didn’t find the time to say you were sorry. Now I think about how much I gave you and don’t understand how you never thought it was too much. It was either just enough or not enough. I wonder if you’ve spent enough time by yourself to see why I left.