You’ve broken your promises again. You promised you promised.
You said you wouldn’t and you did. I forgave and made concessions because I love you.
You said you wouldn’t and you did. I want to forgive again, because I love you.
You said the messages and the phone calls mean nothing, does that mean the promises you made me mean less than nothing?
Does my wanting to be with you make me a coward? What is MY self worth now? You say you love me, yet you continue to hurt me? Can you love me and not respect my wishes as the person you promised yourself to? I went away knowing, without any doubt, that you’ve hurt me again. I left you to yourself and I know you did it again. I go away again soon and I know that you will hurt me again. When I left I said that when I got back I might leave. I might leave you to yourself and to the consequences of what you’ve done. I would have given you an ultimatum, me or “them” and all those phone calls and emails and messages that mean so little to you.
Then you threatened me, you offered the one thing to me that I have wished for since we fell in love. Now there’s the possibility of a child. I have to choke back my anger and my self-loathing to ensure you’re healthy. For the sake of a child that may or may never come to be. You did the one thing that will keep me silent for a little longer. You played the last card in a stacked deck and now I still have to pay the house when I held all the cards. Now I tip my hand, sip my drink, tip the dealer and count my losses.
One day you’ll have to face what you’ve done and acknowledge the irreversible hurt you’ve done to me. The hurt you’ve done while telling me all the while that your heart belongs to me and that you love me above all else.
I understand it’s possible you’ll never be honest with me. And I have to accept that. It’s like a religious loss of faith, like no longer believing there’s a god. Except there’s still a you. There’s just no longer an “us” or a “we.”
I’ve tried understanding and I’ve tried reasoning. I hope that for both our sakes that every day you come home to our cozy little home that I am there to greet you.
I wonder, at the end of the day, who is the bigger coward.
Is it me? Is my own sense of self-worth so low that I just stay for fear of not knowing where I’ll be? Do I stay because despite my pain I am comfortable?
Or is it you? Do you keep everything from me because you’re no longer able to face what you do? Every time you’re caught you just cover your tracks better. Except in one way. Every time I go away you go right back to your old habits. You go back to your late night calls to god-knows-who and your late nights with some stranger. Do you have the courage to say what you want? Just once? Do you have the courage to say we made a mistake staying together?
Or are we the same person? Are we both scared children, afraid of life alone without someone there to protect us? What do we want more? In or out? I want in more than I want out, but it’s so hard to resist the door when you keep pushing me towards it.
While this is a letter I am not sending to you I hope you read it. I hope that you piece that it IS you that I am talking to. You’ll never really know for sure though. That’s the worst part about you and staying with you now… not ever really knowing for sure.
You know who. You know.