You say you’ll keep apologising and that you will wait patiently until I’m ready to forgive you. Thank you for your persistence but are you really sorry? Are you? Or is it because I bruised your sense of self-importance, your ego with my indifference, and now you won’t leave me alone until you’re satisfied that you mattered enough to hurt me.

You see, I know boys like you. Boys who think that they’re the centre of gravity and every girl must lose their balance and fall to the ground at the sight of them. I know boys like you, who seek out girls with low self-esteem and play them like fiddles. And instead of walking away, the girls pull each other’s wigs and come back crying, "Pick me!” It’s quite sad. And you enjoy it. It makes you feel good. You’re a sadist. 

I was once a girl like that. Depleting my bodily fluids crying, asking God stupid questions like, "Why won’t he stop lying? Why won’t he love only me?” God didn’t answer. I guess it was only right that he didn’t say anything. Other people were busy looking for ways to keep themselves hydrated. And here I was, wasting the salt and water in my body.

And then one day I woke up and said to myself, "Self, do you hate yourself?” "No.” "Then why are you allowing your fellow human being, one who eats and sleeps and answers nature’s call, just like you, make you feel inadequate?”

So I kicked the good-for-nothing half-man to the curb. I sat my heart down and clearly explained that its only role was to pump blood. Should it be required to perform other functions, it would be duly notified. 

Since then, I have been called heartless, stone-hearted, difficult...I could go on. But at least my water retention has been consistently high. And since then, I have had no space for empty words, flattering and flirtations.

And that’s where you come in. You’re good with words I’ll give you that. The only problem is that you’re five years too late. If this were 2010 and I was still that lost, insecure girl, I would be yours to take and break. 

I would risk cancer and all other diseases associated with lack of enough sleep, over you. I would stay up, playing your words in my head, reading your texts, over and over again. But this is 2015 and your words are only as important as a bicycle is to, say, a crocodile. Far-fetched? I know. 

Instead of accepting your apology, I’m going to offer one. I’m sorry that I don’t care that you lied to me. You said you were going on a work trip but I bumped into you being cozy with another girl. I’m not your mother, so it’s not my job to worry about your loose morals and your lack of creativity. 

I’m sorry that I didn’t cause a scene or throw a tantrum. It’s just that you’re not my property; you can’t be stolen or taken by anyone. You’re a human being and you have the right to be with whoever you please.

Most of all, I’m sorry that you didn’t hurt me. My heart is just unobtainable to the likes of you.