First and foremost, congratulations on dealing with me for this long and being foolish enough to say, “I do” in the altar.
And now, allow me to apologize in advance for our unfortunate future. I’m sorry for being difficult, for being cold, for being distant. Living with me just might be the greatest challenge you’ll ever face. That is, if you make it through. Most importantly, I am truly sorry that I’m going to break your heart. I just pray to my atheist god that it’s not going to be as destroyed as my heart is, and that someone else can repair the damage once I’m gone.
As I’m sure you know by now, I’m not the easiest person to deal with. You think that you’ve peeled all of the layers off of me, but boy, you still have a long, long, long way to go! There are places in my soul so dark that it makes hell actually a blessing. And even if you scream for help while your deep in there, no one will hear your voice. This is far worse than limbo.
You say that I like to be on top because I’m a control freak. But there’s so much more than just that. A very sacred thing was taken away from me at a very young age, without my consent, without my knowledge, without my realization. I just remember helplessly laying there, not having any control of my existence. So now I live with a constant fear of that something else is going to be snatched away from me whenever I’m not conscious of my every movement. And sorry, sometimes my “fake” will seem so obvious. It’s the best I can do.
There are going to be some mornings when even the brightest sunlight can’t get me out of bed. A pair of hands reaches out from our bed whenever I make an attempt to escape, grasping me stronger each time. And please, don’t waste your time and energy trying to uplift my spirits. It’d actually make me feel worse because I’d be mad at myself for not feeling the way I’m supposed to, and being a disappointment to you, to the world. On those days, please let me be.
While we were dating, I convinced myself that you’d eventually leave me or we’d just grow apart. This is the only thing I’m used to: abandonment. I never let myself get too close to you so that it wouldn’t hurt as much as it should when it ended. But now we are married and I don’t know what the fuck I should do. I wasn’t ready for this, for a till death us do part.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I loved you and I love you. I’ll use the cliché line, it’s not you, it’s me. It’s just that I’ve broken everything and everyone I’ve ever held in my possession. And you are too precious for me to break. I don’t know if I’d have the strong enough strength to pick us back up when I make the both of us fall.
I know I’m insecure, but I’m really glad you’re here.
I’m sorry. I love you.