Stop Pretending That You’re Okay With Only Sex

Please, I am begging you to stop pretending. Stop pretending that this is what you want when we both know that it isn’t. Stop pretending that this is easy, that you can “handle this,” that this “doesn’t mean anything.” Stop, because I know you are lying. This means everything.

I know what it’s like to jump at the chance to see him, even if that only ever means a quick midnight run in the sheets or an early morning booty call. I know what it feels like when he kisses you–like the world lights up a billion blinding colors, but goes pitch dark in the same instant.

Suddenly, you went from feeling everything a little too much, to feeling nothing at all. Because these aren’t kisses dripping of I love you. They only ever sting your lips with the constant reminder: you are my object. And it kills you–I know it is killing you.

I know what it’s like to find yourself naked in his bedsheets yet again, holding back a flood of tears every damn time, fighting back the urge to scream on the top of your fucking lungs, “I love you! I can’t do this anymore,” but instead you roll over and make a joke. You make meaningless small talk and act as if you enjoyed yourself–like you always come back for the sex.

When truthfully, you don’t even want to have sex with him like this. This isn’t you. You go to see his face, to hear his voice, to be with him one more time. And maybe, just maybe, this time will be different. Maybe this time, he’ll realize how much he loves you. He wants you back. He wants to try again. You hold out for that one day.

You hope for that day to come, and I’m telling you that it never will. If you keep going on like this, you will wake up one day and realize you have wasted, in total, nearly six years of your life on one person. You’ll wake up like me, and I can’t let that happen.

If somebody wants to be with you, they will be, no matter the circumstance. If someone says that being with you is too hard, then leave. That’s a sorry excuse, because nothing in this life comes easily. You have to be willing to work for the things you want. Where there is a will, there is a way and nothing, not God himself, could stop you from being with the one you love. It took me two years to realize this.

Please, don’t be like me. Don’t dread getting out of bed every morning. Don’t be the sad girl. Don’t feel sorry for the girl in the mirror. Don’t play a supporting role in your own fucking life. The sun does not rise for him. It rises for you.

I know that change is scary, that this situation is all that you have come to know and that it is comfortable. I know that it is scary to finally stand up for yourself. But darling, you wouldn’t be so scared to say something if you knew he wanted to be with you. You know that this isn’t happening, because it would have happened a long time ago. Trust me, if he wanted you he wouldn’t have let you go in the first place.

Stop pretending. Stop driving home from his place in the middle of the night bawling your eyes out until your ribs start to ache and you have to physically hold your body together to stop from falling apart. You don’t deserve this level of pain. If I said that letting go was easy, I’d be lying. It is the hardest thing you will ever do.

I don’t know exactly what it takes to finally let go, but I know no one could make the choice for me. I tortured myself for two years until one Sunday morning I woke up and I couldn’t even look the girl in the mirror in her eyes. I knew I owed her way more than what I had been giving her these last six years. So I made my typical cup of morning coffee, and drafted the text that was long overdue. It took strength to send that text, but I know you have it in you.

I am no longer the naked girl lost in his bedsheets, and for the first time in six years, I feel like the world is at my fingertips.