In the beginning, I thought I saw past it all. We were the exact same person: broken. When I was with you, I witnessed some sort of beautiful madness and that was remarkable. I found you intriguing, distinguished, and smart, but there was something I could not pin-point about you. I decided to dig deeper because I had to know where the madness had begun.
Being with you was never difficult. You were charming and an open book. Your charisma radiated through rooms, people were drawn to your banter and confidence. I thought you were opening up to me to allow me in, to find council in someone similar to you. What I found out was that I was not the only woman you would tell your stories to. That everything you ever told me was an attempt to get me into bed. I was nothing more than an object for a night, another woman filling a void in order for you to not be alone.
This past summer, we were friends and you told me exactly how you treated women. I was appalled, but convinced you that I cared about your stories. What I never told you was that you made me sick. They gave truth to how little I knew about you and I promised to myself I would never become one of them. I was certain that I was better than all of the others; I would not fall for your tricks.
After only four months, I gave into your advances. You were persuasive, relentless, and made me feel safe and wanted. All of those emotions were lacking in my life and you were there to catch me while I struggled with newly found questions about my existence. You joked all too often that you loved me and that you could marry me. After awhile, I realized these notions were completely insane, brought on by the copious amounts of alcohol and prescription drugs you surrendered to. I will admit that was my second mistake, believing you could, in any way, love me.
After becoming romantically involved, something between us changed. You can say it was my expectations, I do not care. I was happy to feel needed by you and thought maybe you needed me too. We stayed up late, made dinners, watched movies, and opened up to each other. I soon realized I was developing deeper emotions for you and before I became more rooted, I told you. What you said after that will stay with me forever. “I cannot feel anything beyond ‘happy’ and ‘sad.’” That, “when we have sex, you are just a face, nothing more, nothing less.” You further explained that developing feelings for me would make you “vulnerable.” I poured my heart out to you in subtle way, tip-toeing around a subject I knew would send you sprinting in the opposite direction. My vulnerability was on the table and you tossed it to the side like table scraps blaming your inability to feel, selfish to the fact that you were hurt me.
I feel bad that you are unable to experience the full spectrum of emotions we, as human beings, are given. When you told me that, I wanted to slap you. You act as if you are so entitled to treat people the way that you do. I realize now that your childhood was only a crafty truth you have used to cover up your inability to feel defenseless to another person. What I want to say is you are a sad excuse for a man and I know people that have it much worse than you. And yet, you hurt others and you do not flinch while doing it. You sit there with that stupid grin, acting as if you are the greatest gift given to earth. People see past it and eventually read into exactly who you are. You will be alone and once that loneliness sets in, when you are old and gray, you will regret how you treated others.
I have heard it time and time again. I have reached deep inside of me to turn what you said into a sick and twisted story that, at the time, seemed fitting. You always said, “If I want something I will fight for it.” Were you calling me last weekend in an attempt to fight for me? No. It was another stunt pulled so you would not be alone for a night. You are good at it, I will give you that. After 27 years of manipulating people, you are very good at saying exactly what you think they want to hear. I want you to hear me now, “Do not love me when you are lonely and when there is no one to lie beside.” It is slowly torturing every inch of me. I deserve better and you know it. What I need from you is a “goodbye.”
If there is one thing that I hope you learn from knowing me is that I care about you and always will. I cannot change who I am. I have no right to judge you and, no, I will not fix you. I am not glue. There is a whole life ahead of you and if you continue to follow the destructive path that you are on, I do not want to be acquainted with you.
In six short months, we became best friends, confidants, and lovers. If I transpose that onto a lifetime and then lose you because you cannot love me, what kind of life or love is that? You say, “I am happy with me,” but all that I see is a sad being reaching for any sort of sentiment they can find only to hurt people in the process. You are afraid and living a life without hope…but who am I to judge how sad your life is.
In the end, the things I will never say to you are this: I fell in love with you. I fell in love with your “no-worries” attitude and your arrogant honesty. I fell in love with the idea of you. I never told you any of this but when I do I will say, “As long as I live, I will allow myself to love and that makes me better than you,” even though I am not supposed to say that.