Don’t say I’m sorry until you have thrown your phone across the room and smashed it to pieces. Leave it there for a week straight; don’t pick it up, don’t buy a new one, and don’t worry about the missed calls because none of them matter if my name isn’t the one lighting up your screen. Lie to your friends, tell them you deleted my number even though you haven’t, even though you never will.
Don’t say I miss you until you have lost seven pounds in two weeks. Throw the ice cream in the bin and get rid of the comfort food because not even your favorite will take this pain away. Politely decline every meal offered to you, and reassure your grandmother that you’re okay, you’re just not hungry. Tell them it’s a loss of appetite, but keep it a secret that it’s also the loss of the person you love.
Don’t say I love you until you’ve molded yourself into someone new. Dye your hair red and buy ten new dresses you will never wear. Get rid of everything I bought you, but hide that hoodie under your bed because it still smells like me. Rearrange your room and cover your wall in new posters. Delete all the music we used to listen to, it will never sound the same no matter how loud you scream the lyrics.
Don’t say I’m sorry until you have lost countless hours of sleep and laid awake in bed until sunrise. Toss and turn while trying to find the same comfort you felt while falling asleep in my arms. Wonder how I’m doing, and where I am, and if I’m still with him. Convince yourself it was better off this way and that it would have never worked out, it will be the biggest lie you tell yourself.
Don’t say you miss me until you have turned down the girl you thought you once loved. Remember that I opened your eyes to the beauty of the meaning behind those three words, and remember that I took that all away the day I left you. Tell her that things are different now, that you aren’t the same person you were two years ago, but don’t tell her that I hold you heart, don’t tell her I always will.
Don’t say you love me until you have covered hundreds of pages in words that describe me. Fill the lines with sloppy cursive because you can’t stop your hand from shaking. Talk about drowning in my eyes while you’re drowning in tears, and get upset when your words only capture the love and not the pain you feel. Address every letter, every poem, every thought to me even though I will never read them.
Don’t say I’m sorry until you know what you’re apologizing for, and don’t say I miss you until you know what it’s like to really miss someone, and don’t say I love you until you see what the absence of your love has done to me.
You called to apologize, but you don’t know what it is you’re apologizing for (A Guide to Experiencing the Heartbreak I Did) // mistakenharmony