I loved you. Or did I? Love is something that’s hard to define, but I definitely liked you. From the beginning on that chilly day at a silly boozy brunch in downtown Manhattan. You came on strong when you kissed me and I liked it. I liked the way you stared at me with those blue eyes and made me feel as if I was the only one in the room. And the way that you fought for me. And the way that you seemed different. You seemed real and raw, something that today is hard to find.
After that day we started to date and it was beautiful and very, very blue. I feel as if that was our color. The color of your eyes and the color of the sky when we’d walk around the city doing whatever. And we didn’t go out on the town or to pretty restaurants, but we strolled and we watched TV and we smoked weed and touched each other’s privates until we felt satisfied and complete. Our intimate moments were some of the best. I think I taught you a thing or two about letting go in bed.
It was fun. We always had fun. Sometimes drinking and drugs were involved and sometimes they weren’t. But your touch on my arm on my couch always gave me the shivers. Because you longed for me. Whether for my looks, for my skin, or for the fact that I was a female that listened to what you said, you wanted me all along. And I think you loved me. I think you thought of me as something unique, a rare woman with a mind of her own.
Then I found something out about you. You have a drug problem. Your real and raw behavior was you being uninhibited on coke and pills. It shook me to the core when you told me, because although we’ve both dabbled in marijuana and cocaine now and again, I certainly have no problem with drugs. I can take them or leave them. But you can’t. You need them. You need to wake up and have a beer and smoke weed and pop a pill. You need to numb yourself. And all I want is to feel.
So we fight about it. Something I would never want to do with you and your sweet blue eyes and your messy blonde hair. You are my partner and you love me and I think I love you, too. But how can I do this? How can I succumb to this life of ups and downs and addiction and drama? I need substance, not the kind you love to ingest, but real, full substantial love where I can feel comfortable and secure. I need to not feel so alone.
So don’t take this the wrong way. Please don’t take it the wrong way. But I can’t pull you from your pit of depression with the drugs and the parties and the girls. I can’t sign up for a life of helping you, when I could find a life of mutual happiness with a partner who is already whole. I am moving on. And this might be the most selfish thing that I’ve done, but I am protecting myself. Some have it in them, others don’t. I’m weak, I suppose, but I can’t be your savior.
You will find someone. You will find a woman stable enough to give up some of her life to help you. Maybe she has so much happiness in her that she can let you borrow some and it’ll be okay, she can survive without that bit of light. But I’m on the brink. My light has just recently turned on and it feels so bright and free and I can’t risk you turning it off. So goodbye to you. And God bless and have fun. And please remove yourself from the darkness one day. And I wish your family the best of luck. I loved you but now I don’t.