Thursday, July 9, 2015

A letter

Dear L,

Please know first and foremost this is not the first time I am writing a letter like this. You are not the first one. I guess it’s a deficiency that I have, not being able to communicate properly about my real feelings. I think it’s because I talk so much that at some point people tune out - out of habit.

Ever since the first day I met you, you’ve intrigued me. I tried to deny to myself how much I was actually interested in you. I didn’t think too much of it, but I thought a lot about you.
After I broke up with my ex (which I’ll have you know was not because of you, even though you were the catalyst. I had just realized I was young and I wanted to have fun) I didn’t think much of …. I broke up with my ex because I wanted to spend time with you and not feel guilty about it. But I didn’t expect much to come out of seeing you. I had a vague idea of what guys wanted from me and I figured I was pretty sure it didn’t include anything long term.

In all honesty, I didn’t want anything long term. I’ve always believed that I was that type of person, but it never seems to go well for me.

When I first asked you to join me on my escapade to Coney Island it wasn’t to be date – it was to be free for just a moment. I didn’t think it would go anywhere beyond that night – or a few days for that matter. Knowing that, I also want you to know – I didn’t fall in love. It wasn’t infatuation either. It was passion, and you made me feel free. I liked you as a friend.. and potential fuck buddy, but that was all I wanted.
Not sure what was going on through your head (except for some fucked up voodoo that’s been running its course through the women in my family for millennia) but you had other ideas in mind. And voila!

Thank you for your passion, thank you for Olivia. But you destroyed me. It’s not your fault though.

I was fine with you leaving.. I could handle hate, rejection, and disappointment. What I couldn’t handle was half love. Love that only goes but so far.. isn’t really love at all. Love that touches your hand, but not your heart isn’t love at all – it’s pain pure, unadulterated pain. And I’m sure you’ll never understand that.

It may just be that we love differently. Or maybe you just don’t know how to love. But your love hurts. This is why I’ve tried to separate so many times, because I want your love,  but your love hurts and that’s not good for anyone. And every time I think that I won’t have to live in pain again, it comes right back to haunt me.

I cannot begin to understand how you feel, or what your motives are. I can only see the darkness that is inside my heart. I smile and play along but I am empty. What hurts more than anything is the confusion… Every time I try to talk about it, you kind of sweep it under the rug. But I know, I can feel it, I know this isn’t real. Don’t get me wrong. I do love you, and I do wish it was real. I wish that we could get engaged, and you did propose, and I did take your last name and we did buy a house or have more children, or start a company… I wish we had a future, but we don’t. We have alignment, because we share a child; and yes, that’s important but it’s not what I wanted. I wanted all or nothing at all… and you gave me half and dragged me the rest of the way. Denying that you had any fault. I know someone else like that.

As days go by and I try to plan for my future I find it suffocating. I try not to talk about it or think about it, but I’m suffering in silence. It makes me want to yell. I’m tired of the game, it’s very lonely. Everyday I’m reminded of what I want, but can’t have. I appreciate your support it’s made all the difference, however, I wish none of this had every happened. But still, Olivia is the greatest thing that has ever happened to me.. so.. I guess it’s all a necessary evil. Well, there is no good without a sacrifice.

Sincerely Yours...

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