was it fun?

Was it fun when I said that I never found friends like you?

Was it fun when I told you my biggest fear?

Was it fun when I shared my trauma believing that I was in a safe place?

Did you laugh behind me back at how stupid I was?

Did you enjoy listening to the things I told you?

Was it fun when you sent those pitying looks my way?

Was it fun when you lied, making me believe I had somewhere to go?

Was it fun…before you realise I got to know everything you said about me?

Would that look still be the same when you realise I can’t stand it anymore. At times I can ignore it but other times I can’t be asked about anything.

Was it fun?

I hate it.

I absolutely despise myself for falling for it. Every fibre in my body resents that time for ignoring the signs; for brushing off every comment, every single phrase that was made under your breath thinking I couldn’t hear.

What in the world was I thinking?

I should’ve just left. I should’ve turned around and walked away…

It would’ve saved me a lot of pain.

Part of me has forgiven you. Not because I wanted to, but I needed to do something to move on.

But the other part?

That one refuses. It wants to hold onto the grudges for dear life. That bit remembers the pain all too well. It remembers how I shot up from my seat during class and rushed out the door because I couldn’t hide the tears anymore. It remembers the way I called my best friend crying because I couldn’t believe the things I had heard. That part remembers the way I sat there…call after call, message after message just hoping I would get a response.

That part…

It remembers how I pathetically saw myself get ridiculed…insulted…ignored.

It remembers it all too well.

And she hates it.

She despises every part of it with a burning passion.

The other part may laugh it off and take it as a joke but she noticed the shift in her mindset. She noticed how she stares at the smiles a bit too long wondering if it’s true. She finds herself paying attention to tones and dialogues, trying to figure out the signs she may have been missed.

She doesn’t want to make the same damn mistake anymore.

She REFUSES TO.

It’s okay if you don’t like me.

Not everyone is meant to like everyone, and I’ve accepted that. But you knew it wasn’t going to work out. You knew but you chose to stay when pain could’ve been avoided.

You know?

I was sitting in class writing a different post (literally) and I don’t know…before I knew it, I flipped to a new page and started scribbling everything that was in my head.

Was I angry? Not really. It’s been a bit over a year. I didn’t have a reason to be angry.

But I still wrote everything and anything that I could think of. I still don’t know what made me do it, but it felt…riveting to write it.

Funny how that works.

I don’t hate them. I honestly don’t. But I would still do anything to keep my distance and not interact until I don’t have a choice.

Things could’ve been prevented, sure, but I wasn’t a complete saint in the situation either. But eh. It happened and I mean sometimes it still rings in my ears and I find myself either joking around about it or forcing myself to get distracted.

Life happened and it’s fine. We accept and move on and call it a day.

Edit (22nd April 2026):

The more classes we take and the more things happen, I realise that I have truly moved on. Sure, stuff happened and I got hurt, and yes, I was also the bad guy. But I learned that life goes on and you forgive and just move on. I don’t talk to them all the time, but small casual conversations are okay.

Classes today were amazing, they did a session today (I was one of the volunteers), and everything was fun; along with the imposter and mafia games we played afterwards.

I don’t know what’s the point of this edit, honestly. But I did feel like this should be something that can be said. Things happened and sure it can’t go back to the way it was, but we can acknowledge it and just….you know…

Today was one of those days I realised that my heart may randomly get reminded of the times I got hurt, but I believe I’m at that stage where I can talk to them instead of going like ‘i can’t even stand your face right now,’ because for me, that’s just childish.

It’s been over a year since everything happened and sometimes I would remember it and get this weird feeling in my stomach, but other times? I’m just glad to be having those good, memorable days, in university, even if it is with them.