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Don’t Play Me Like a Doll

Don’t Play Me Like a Doll

I don’t really think I’ve ever been in love. Not the Nicholas Sparks, throwing-yourself-in-front-of-a-bullet-to-protect-your-other-half kind, anyway. I know I’ve been in “like” with probably too many guys. But not love. To me, it’s still possible to have your heart broken even when you’re not in love. Even when everything seemed to be going great, until it wasn’t. Even when I had given you another chance. We weren’t in love, true, but you still broke me. I want so much for you to try again, to give us another shot. But if that’s going to happen, you can’t do this again. You can’t make me feel like this anymore.

So don’t treat me like a puppet. Like I’m a disposable thing you can use when you’re bored, and then toss aside when you’ve got other things going on.

Don’t lead me on. Don’t plan on seeing me and then avoid me like the plague when you stand me up, twice.

Don’t pretend to be a good guy because you didn’t take advantage of me when I was drunk, but you still shattered me when you dropped me; an old China doll, getting played once again.

Don’t say you’re mature when you don’t know how to communicate like an adult. Leaving me breathlessly worried. I’ve had too many heartbreaks and people taken from me too soon for my mind not to wander when you’re MIA for over 72 hours.

Don’t do this. This thing I never thought you’d do. Because you wanted to get to know me, you said. You read my articles and understood where I was coming from and what I was looking for. You were a good guy. A patient, mature guy who could never hurt me or break my heart.

But you went and did it. You went and played me and now I’m the one reeling. Stuck wondering what I did wrong. Hating myself for actually caring about you. Continuing to make up excuses for why.

Why did you disappear? I thought we were too old to actually “ghost” on each other, I thought we were both adults. Both too smart for that. But there you went, dissolving into my memory, making all of our talks and plans and jokes fade away. I guess they don’t matter anymore.

Did I scare you away when I said you coming to my birthday might not be a good idea? You said you were shy and nervous, but so was I. Did I expect too much? Was following through on our plans too stressful? Was texting me a simple “Hey, I can’t tonight” or “talk later?” too complicated?

Don’t leave more questions than answers. Don’t get me wrong, I loved that you were a little shy and nervous. But is it impossible for you to tell me what was going on?

Because I’m not a cool girl, and you know that. You once said you liked that about me. I can’t just be okay with you hurting me. I can’t just play it off that you made me feel so inadequate and unworthy. I know you have a lot going on right now, but I think everyone and their mother will back me up here when I say that it takes twenty seconds (or less) to text someone that you’re okay, or that now isn’t a good time. And the fact that you couldn’t do something that simple? Well now I see what I am to you.

I think you hurt me more than most boys because of our possibilities. Because our conversations were so lovely and you could keep up with my sass.

Because you told me we’d talk tomorrow. And then tomorrow came, and you vanished.

Usually when I’m hurting I clench all my muscles together and I feel better for a second. I become tight and rigid and then I just breathe out the pain. But with you, I can’t hold myself together, because you tore me apart. I’ve never put myself out there as much as I did with you, and now you’ve shown me why I shouldn’t have. You made me doubt myself, and I don’t think anyone should ever be made to feel that way.

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Everyone says I shouldn’t put up with this. That I deserve better. That I’ve been hurt way too much and need a real man who wouldn’t wimp out on me or abandon me like you have. The thing is, I used to think you were that man. You saw my crazy and you liked it. More than that, you didn’t even think I was crazy. You wanted to know what I was writing about. You liked my dog. Maybe we were technically nothing, but we were almost something. And I think that you running away from that is what hurts the most.

And if I’m being completely honest, I’ll still wait. Because I choose to see the best in people, and I know you’re better than what you’ve done. So please, don’t end it like this.

Don’t make me regret that time spent getting to know each other. Don’t make me start to hate you. Don’t run away. Don’t ghost me. Whatever you’re doing, just don’t.

Don’t play me like a doll, because to me, this isn’t a game.

 


Photo by DeathtoStock_Wired9

Korey Lane

Korey is a senior at Syracuse University, with a double major in English and Anthropology. That being said, she is (kind of has to be) an avid reader, writer, and over-thinker. She will forever maintain that Taylor Swift is a genius and that tea is better than coffee, and has no problem admitting that her dog is her best friend. She hopes to one day become a published novelist, and also own a miniature pony.
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