Like finding out that he first met his next "official' girlfriend not after he broke up with me, but before. In February. I was dumped on the last day in February.
Which of course reinforces the idea in my head that the whole "I couldn't be emotionally committed to anyone" line he fed to me was bullshit and he just found someone new to latch on to because I was away and depressed. And that, despite all my trying, I wasn't good enough for him anymore. While he claims it was more he wasn't good for me (which is an objective truth shared by everyone, basically), I think he saw these new people and just decided that I and our relationship was "too much work" (which is funny because I was the only one doing any sort of work on it).
Part of me wonders, actually, if he did anything with this person before he broke up with me, which I once accused him of doing but realized that was unfair. But I will not lie when I say that that thought still crosses my mind, especially upon realizing things such as this. I try to not dwell on it, because if that was true it would just be yet another thing for me to be sad about. And it would be yet another reason for me to be cynical and distrustful of people in general.
Again, though, this makes sense. His frat brothers told me that he was really volatile and he kept changing his mind. That he was confusing and stupid and gave up on me and did things to me that I did not deserve. It makes sense that he met this person before he actually dumped me.
Things like this, though, cause mental battles inside my head. On one hand, I listen to the supportive words on my friends and family. Of those who were friends with him. That I did not deserve what he did. That what he did was stupid and unfair. That he was always inconsistent. That he changed his mind about me and about us and the future we always talked about for no real reason whatsoever. That no matter what I could have done, it would not have saved anything. And even if I could have done something else, it wouldn't have been fair, because - as so many people we didn't even know had recognized - I was the one who was giving everything I could, while he sat back and watched us burn. When I told him how much I loved him, I meant it. When I always thought about our future, I truly wanted it. When I told him that I would be there for him and would not give up on him and on us because he was depressed and going through a lot of personal and family problems, I committed. And not out of some sense of obligation. Because I loved him. Because I loved him more than I ever thought possible. Because him being sad did not change how I felt about him. It couldn't. I loved him, for all of him. And so I never asked him to change in ways other people did. I never demanded he give up fighting games. I never demanded he visit me when I missed him when we were apart. I never demanded for any sort of gifts. I did things because I loved him. And although I often had a very difficult time expressing such love in words, I tried to do so in actions.
However, there is another mentality which battles this. Of course, this is the self-loathing side of me, which, no matter how hard I have tried, I have been unable to shake. No matter how often people tell me the above things...no matter how often people tell me that I was too good to him, and that I did all that I could, and that his breaking up with me was stupid and not because of anything I did...I still carry this idea that I just was no longer good enough. That I stopped being fun enough, or that I could have done something else. That I had been deluding myself into thinking that he loved me as much as he said and told me every day. That the reason he found people so quickly after me is because I am replaceable. I am not worth mourning over, because I am so insignificant that even the person who continually told me that I was the person he cared the most about, and that I was the person he had the deepest connection with, and that I was the person he wanted to stay with throughout his life...even he was able to do hurtful things to me and was able to quickly find other people whose company he found more fulfilling than mine.
The war between these two schools of thought has been raging for a long time now, and really has not been able to stop. On one day, the former will be victorious in battles, while on another, the latter will be.
But no matter what, hearing more and more about the extent of his betrayal is always sad. Even if it is unsurprising to me.
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