Dear Ex,

When we met, I was already in pieces. I was stuck in a crumbling relationship, begging for the bare minimum—a callback, a response to my texts, some shred of human decency. I was drained, depressed, and shattered by the realization that the man who once promised me forever couldn’t even bother to treat me like I mattered.

Then you came along. You painted yourself as the savior I didn’t even know I needed. You promised to treat me better, to be everything he wasn’t. You told me to let him go and run to you. You said all the right things, promised me heaven on earth, and whispered dreams of a love I’d never known.

At first, I held back. I clung to the hope that my old relationship could somehow work out. But months passed, and the ugly truth sank in: it was over. So I turned to you. I gave you my trust, my heart, and every broken piece of myself, hoping you’d handle them with care.

So why? Why didn’t you keep your promises? Why didn’t you treat me better like you said you would?

Instead, you were rude, constantly rude. I was scared to ask you a question, scared to speak my mind, even in public, because you could snap at any moment. You’d ask me to come over, and I’d go, only to sit in silence, left to entertain myself while you wandered off with your friends.

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And while I sat there, feeling invisible, you were out there, treating other women like queens—princess treatment for them, scraps for me. Was the chase just a game to you? Did you only want me because I was with someone else? Did you only enjoy the thrill of the hunt, just to catch me and make me miserable?

How could you treat me like I was beneath you when you were the one who pursued me first?

And then, the insults began. The verbal abuse. The unsavory remarks. I still ask myself—what did I do to deserve that?

You probably wonder why I blocked you. Let me tell you why.

It was the night I was in pain. Pain so deep it felt like my soul was being ripped apart. Because of you. Because of the pills you convinced me to take. “We’re not ready,” you said. “We have to get rid of it.”

So, I bled. Alone. Desperate. I called you, but you were sound asleep. When I ended up in the hospital, fighting through the aftermath, you didn’t even bother to check on me. Not a call. Not a visit. Not even a text.

But then, days later, when I posted a picture of myself looking fine, you finally found the nerve to text me. “I miss you,” you said.

That’s when I blocked you. Deleted your number. Wiped you from my life.

You had the audacity to send someone to ask me why I snub you now. Really? You don’t know? After all that? Let me make it clear: you should have left me alone.

If your only mission was to break me further, you could’ve spared us both the drama. But thank God for growth. Thank God I’ve found my worth. Thank God I no longer cry over someone as undeserving as you.

And since you love clarity, let me leave you with this: You weren’t even that good in bed. Seriously, work on your skills.

So, don’t send anyone to ask me questions. Don’t try to contact me. This letter is all the closure you’ll ever get.

Sincerely,
The Girl Who Knows Her Worth

P.S. It’s almost 2025. Everyone knows their value now. You’ll never find another woman to belittle again.