Text I never expected to get - Part 2

Sorry babe.

It's what he send me, yesterday afternoon. After a full 10 hours of me freaking out about what he had send me. (See part 1) And I was just mad, the nerve! No, sorry babe doesn't even cover it. Being drunk isn't an excuse. So here's how our conversation went.

> This is a joke right?
< What baby?xxx
> Ugh, I'm so mad right now, I can't even think clearly.
< Why you're mad?
> I feel like I'm a fucking toy.
< Auwtch.

What I should have send was that I don't want to hear from him again. To leave me alone. That he's too late. But the thing is I couldn't. I wanted to see where this goes. So instead we stopped talking about the snap and went back to the way we were last week. I went along with whatever he was playing, and my heart stopped beating everytime he called me 'babe', 'baby' or when he said that he thought smart girls were sexy. I asked how the event went, and now it's done how he planned on celebrating it. Spoiler alert, he celebrated the night before, hence the snap. But like I said, being drunk isn't an excuse. He talked about the busy week that's still ahead of him and he failed to ask how my week went. We talked a bit about the football game the Red Devils were playing that night and that's when our conversation ended. He still hasn't read my last text. He did check out my Instagram stories though.

And in that moment, I came to a realisation. I'm over it. I cried for a week and a half about him leaving me on read, and I had been mad for a day about what he sent. I had ruined my finals and my best friend probably is tired of me bitching about him. Hell, even I'm tired of bitching about him. He doesn't care, I'm just a play thing he can let down when he's tired of it and pick up when he's bored. And that's not me. Not anymore. I worth more. I won't settle for it. I want more. I want heat, I want romance, I want to feel like a freaking lady. Thank you Meridith Grey, you said exactly what I want to say. I'm not asking for Mr. Darcy to write me a letter. I'm not asking for Peeta Mellark to throw me some bread. I'm not asking for Niall Horan to serenade me under a light of a thousand stars. All I'm asking for is a bit of respect.

From this moment on, my finals are coming first. Then my best friend and if he sends me a text I will answer when I have the time for it, I will not stop doing what I'm doing to text him back. This is something I'm promising to myself, right now. For God's sake, have some damn selfrespect, young lady!

Love, Laure

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