Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for waking up with me every morning. For getting breakfast with me and playing video games until one of us had to leave for work. Thank you for blasting all the pop punk hits from 2009 with me in the car. For letting me live in an alternate reality every time I stayed the night with you or stayed for days on end. Thank you for letting me believe I was the only one, even when I knew she was upstairs in bed on the nights I wasn’t there. For letting her believe I didn’t exist, even though my clothes were in your closet, my toothbrush was in your bathroom, and evidence of all the things I bought you was scattered throughout your house. Thank you for the baggage you left me with when I finally had enough of playing pretend with you.
It was so sweet of you to let me believe that I wasn’t pretty enough or good enough for you. So absolutely endearing to hear that you slept with your drunk ex at a party you told me I couldn’t go to. Thank you for making it hard for me to trust men, especially the one that I’m dating. Thank you for traumatizing me so much over the course of our time together that I wake up scared and shaking because I could somehow be cheated on right now.
You’re so kind for letting your friends call me “psycho” because you told them some twisted version of everything that happened. Let me reassure you, there’s NOTHING I love more than being perceived as “psychotic” just because I tell the truth about you.
Most importantly, thank you for giving me all the baggage you wanted to get rid of. Thank you for the guilt, the panic attacks, the paranoia, the sleepless nights, the confusion, the anger—all of it. Thank you SO much. It’s the only thing you’ve ever given me, and I promise I’ll keep it for a long time.