I think about the words and actions you used to break my heart often.
Tonight I broke down in the shower remembering the way you made sure I knew that he had saved your life, as if that alone would make me — what? Like him? Accept him? Grateful to him? Make everything better?
I think about how you talked about the urge to drive into traffic over the guilt of……….what exactly? At the time I thought it was over hurting me, or over having feelings for someone else. But I don’t believe you worried about having feelings for someone else because of how quickly and easily you let it happen — how decisively you chose someone you had just met and discarded someone you had known for almost half our lives — how you had been the one to admit having feelings for me and asking if we could date and how you were the one now implying I was a problem. And now I don’t believe you cared about hurting me because I have hurt for nearly 365 days straight and I’ve done it alone.
I didn’t tell you then, about all the ways I imagined killing myself. I didn’t imagine driving into oncoming traffic like you did because my pain and hurt was mine alone and nobody else deserved to suffer because of it. But I thought about guns, and knives, starvation, pills, ropes… I didn’t tell you because I worried about the guilt you felt — guilt that would have made me stop doing whatever it was that I was doing to cause it, but that you couldn’t seem to resist. That you used to justify what you were doing.
There was nobody there to save me from my suicidal thoughts, there was nobody there to hold my hand. There was nobody there to talk to. There was nobody to help me pick up the pieces of my heart, nobody to convince me I had a reason to live. I had to do it all by myself. I’ve had to do it all by myself for the past year.
In fact, one of our mutual friends told me that she had already accepted that I would commit suicide and there was nothing she could do about it and that it was what it was.
I think about how once you said I was your soulmate, how once you said I was your destiny, how once you said I had saved you. Those were all words and phrases you were using with him as if you hadn’t used them for me first, as if that didn’t gut me like a fish every time.
You wanted me to be grateful he had saved your life, as if he was the only one that could, as if I was some how responsible for you nearly losing it. And then you proceeded to spend the next eight months as if we had never known each other — as if we were strangers. I’m grateful you’re still alive, but you’re acting as though I’m dead to you. How can I be grateful if I’m as good as a stranger to you now?
I knew then that you were grieving. I’m sure you still are. I stepped away because I didn’t want to add to your grief, but I hoped you’d speak to me again. I hoped you’d care enough to reach out and see if I was okay. But you didn’t. I assumed you were fine because you had him and he had saved your life and he was your soulmate and your destiny and he was so wonderful — he was everything you had once said about me and you had replaced me with him, and after three months of trying to repair us, you had made it clear that I wasn’t good enough anymore, and I wasn’t worth waiting for. You’d made it clear you were in good hands — better than my disappointing and unfulfilling ones. You’d made it clear you were not going to choose me. You’d made it clear I wasn’t enough for you to live for.
You were always enough for me. Enough for me to be willing to live for once I lose my parents. I’ve spent the past year coming to terms with living my life alone (and every time I think about living alone I think about you saying he was like a lifesaver — someone to rely on there near you so you wouldn’t be alone. I think about how that almost seems like an excuse now, like something I should have been understanding of because I also would have to face being alone. I think about how you didn’t even consider that I could save you, that I could keep you from being alone. I think about how you were so much more to me than just a lifesaver to keep from being alone. I think about how I thought you felt like I was more than just a lifesaver for you, too — then I think about how someone you viewed as a lifesaver became more meaningful and important than me. I think about how scared I am to live alone, and how finding someone locally to rely on has never been a consideration because I don’t trust anyone like that anymore. I think about how much I’ve had to come to terms with doing alone and how I have to continually come to terms with it over and over again and fight despair and suicidal ideation to convince myself it’ll be okay and not once have I considered finding someone to “save me” from that.). I’ve come to terms with knowing I won’t be here much longer after my parents are gone. I’ve come to terms with knowing I’ll never be worth choosing. I’ve carved lines in my body trying to feel anything other than the loneliness and grief. I’ve fought suicidal ideation nearly every day. I’ve carried new health diagnoses alone. I’ve felt like such a failure — and it’s hurt twice as much because I used to know that you didn’t see me that way and that you believed in me and loved me…until you didn’t. I’ve come to terms with the idea that my health issues will keep me alone. I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’ll never be what anyone will want. I’ve come to terms with the knowledge that I am the problem.
I’ve done it all without the person I thought loved me, the person I thought would always be there, the person I was looking forward to growing old with, the person I thought I’d get to experience a full life with, the person I thought would choose me like I’d choose her. The person I thought was the other half of my soul, that I’d have died for…
I keep selfishly circling the drain of knowing that while you were guilty and hurting over whatever it was that was hurting you so badly this time last year (and I still can’t think that it was me because the guilt did not stop you from hurting me), you didn’t wind up alone. You had someone choosing you no matter what. I was the one being abandoned. I was the one being hurt by your decision. You could hurt me but not someone you just met that probably wouldn’t have even been hurt — and probably wouldn’t be hurt if you dumped him today. I was the only one being hurt.
Early on I felt awful for being so devastated by losing you when I knew you’d lost your aunt and were grieving. I was always understanding of your situation — the time you were having to spend caring for your niece, the fact that you had to work, the fact that you were grieving and struggling, the way depression can make everything feel pointless. I excused everything because I loved you, really loved you. I think often about you saying I wasn’t fulfilling your wants and needs. Those are words that will live with me until I die. Never enough. Always too much. Never the right thing for anyone. You blamed me for your desire to pursue someone else — for the guilt you felt and couldn’t resist. You never asked if I was fulfilled. You never wondered if there were things I had excused and forgiven and been understanding of impacting your life that I knew you couldn’t help.
The difference was that I didn’t blame you and I didn’t abandon you.
I don’t know where I was going with this. I sobbed in the shower and I knew I needed to get these thoughts out or I’d keep crying all night. And since I have no one to save me, no one to hold me, no one to choose me, no one to listen to me, no one to understand me, and no one to look forward to growing old with, I had to come say it to the void. I’ve spent nearly a year saving myself, choosing myself, holding myself, listening to myself, and coming to terms with the fact that I will always be alone. This is the best I can do, and even in doing it I know it won’t soothe my sadness, fill my heart, or do anything except get these thoughts out of my head. Which is good enough, I guess.
You were one of the reasons I chose to stay when my life felt worthless. You said I was that for you. But I wasn’t good enough when it mattered, and you didn’t choose me when I needed it. My life has been nothing but numbly floating through the days, fighting depression and anxiety and suicidal ideation, and losing more of the precious time that I’ve already lost to my health and my circumstances. I’m sure you’ve spent the past year numbly floating through the days, fighting depression and anxiety and suicidal ideation over the loss of your aunt as well. A key difference is that you had someone you chose to be there with you. I still find myself wondering why we had to grieve alone. Because I grieved for you before all this, and I’ve grieved so much since as well. I would have stayed by your side through all of it and we could have helped each other carry the grief. But you got someone else to help you and left me to figure things out as if I didn’t have grief and depression to deal with. I’ve spent the year trying to understand how I was so terrible that I wasn’t worth choosing, wasn’t worth trying for. I’ve tried to understand how I hurt you, how I disappointed you, what I did to deserve being abandoned and ignored. You said multiple times that we could still be friends, that we could still do things together, but ultimately followed it up with “I have a very limited schedule.” You explained it was limited because of the time you spent talking to him — time you used to spend talking to me — and then you blamed it on your job. Your job that has essentially the same schedule as my job. The job was not what was limiting your schedule. It was him — and even though I was your friend first and even though you had said you loved me romantically first and even though I loved you romantically first, you still chose him. “I have a boyfriend now.” Those words will be with me until I die as well. The way that was supposed to explain everything as if I hadn’t been your girlfriend, your life partner, your person. I wasn’t good enough to be that for you, apparently. And I wasn’t worth enough for you to try and keep me as a friend. I stepped away praying you’d take accountability when you weren’t drowning in grief, I stepped away and held the pain so you didn’t have more to deal with, I stopped trying to ask even for the bare minimum when I knew I deserved what we had promised each other — I deserved my friend and my partner and my lover — and when I knew I had been discarded in every way.
Just like my so many aspects of my life, you took my agency and made all the decisions about us. You decided it was okay to dump me, you decided it was okay to leave me for someone else, you decided to give into feelings for someone else, you decided I wasn’t worth your time even as a friend. I had no say in any of it. I still remember when we agreed to be more than just friends. “Whatever you need to feel safe is what I want.” You were so careful with me then, so understanding. You allowed me to be vulnerable in ways I never had allowed myself to be, and I trusted you to be even more vulnerable in the future, and I was willing to wait as long as I had to for that future with you. How we got from that to you deciding everything about our relationship and giving me no say because you caught feelings for someone you’d just met, I don’t know. I have always been willing to blame the grief, but now that it’s been so long since you’ve even tried to speak to me, it feels less and less likely. I know you got upset that I called you a cheater, but there was nothing else to call you. You had engaged in romantic feelings with someone while still in a relationship with me. Sure, you told me, but telling me that you’re doing it doesn’t make it not cheating. Telling me and then ignoring my pleas doesn’t make it not cheating. You made me feel like a fool for believing we had romantic feelings for each other, but if we had only ever just been friends you wouldn’t have felt guilty and I wouldn’t have been hurt.
And despite all this pain and hurt, I’m not guilty at all to say I still love you. So if you ever thought my love wasn’t real, it has survived nearly a year of pain and hasn’t once diminished or turned to hatred. I love you and you matter to me, even if you don’t love me and I don’t matter to you. What we had was real to me even if it was a joke to you — and had you chosen me and been willing to wait for me what we had could have been even more real.
Ultimately I’ve said my piece many times in many ways. My heart has not changed. I’m still here, I still love you, I still care, I still want you in my life. I am not the one keeping us apart — I was not the one who broke us up, I am not the one keeping us apart, and I can’t be the one to bring us back together. It has to be you.
I’ll be here if you ever decide I’m worth choosing. If that makes me a loser, so be it. You were once in a lifetime to me. I don’t walk away from things that matter. I don’t say I love you unless I mean it.
titsay
discoholicmusic
pixelskylines
annaxmalina
snowghoul
theartofmadeline
blakekathryn
