The last letter I wrote you, I wrote for you.
This one is for me.
I loved you from day one. I loved you with that little kid kind of love, where instead of being nice and telling you how I felt, I had to hate your guts.
Do you remember the first words I said to you? “Shut the fuck up.”
Do you remember what you were wearing? I remember your Converse…They were the first things I loved about you.
As we grew up, grew closer, grew to be friendly, I realized, one day out of the blue, that I was in love with you. This was about a year before we started dating the first time, and let me explain to you why I made you wait.
I was going to hurt you. I was going to break your heart, going to destroy you, going to absolutely ruin you. Do you remember me telling you, “You’re better off without me, just forget about me”?
I was right, wasn’t I? What did I do? I lied. I cheated. You know you were destroyed. And yet for some reason you refused to let me go. I finally understand why.
You never loved me. You never really cared. You just hated the fact that I always said no to you, you hated the fact that I refused to let you in, and take you and let you be mine.
And when you finally got what you wanted, you didn’t want to let go.
Two and a half years. You wasted two and a half years of my time. Two and a half years that I could have spent doing all of the things I wanted to do, being the crazy teenager I wanted to be, I wasted on you. You never even cared. All you cared about was yourself. You were selfish and self-absorbed, and nothing ever mattered to you except for yourself.
Why do you think I did all those horrible things? Why do you think I cheated? Because I was bored? Because I had nothing better to do? I did it because of YOU. I did it because you never showed me you cared. They might not have cared about me, but at least they could pretend well enough to get what they wanted.
And then, one day, out of the blue, for no fucking reason, you’re done. You “can’t do this anymore”. FUCK YOU.
I was trying so hard to be perfect, to make up for everything I’d done, but she was prettier, funnier, crazier, more fun than I could ever be, and she fucked with your head just like I did. You fell in love with her the way you fell in love with me. Obsessively, possessively, COMPETITIVELY. She was a game, and now that you’ve won, YOU DON’T LOVE HER ANYMORE. Isn’t that what you said? “I’m physically incapable of loving anyone. I don’t love her.”
The worst part is, is that she does care about you. She loves you like I did (do?).
I wanted to get old with you, be your wife, have your children. I would have been the rock star’s wife. Do you remember how we planned to live in London? How we would bring our kids to all your shows, and let them watch from backstage?
And now that you’re leaving, now that you’re going off to get famous, who will you have? Like you said, you’re leaving everything you know, and she’s not going to wait for you. What happens when you finally come back? Who will you have? Will you have anyone? Or anything?
No. Just me.
Just that girl that you never loved, the one who will always love you far more than she ever should, the one that wanted to spend the rest of her life with you, the one that would have died for you.
Too bad I’ll never be good enough.
So from this day forward, I’m done. No more missing you, no more dwelling on the fact that she was better than me and that I’m not good enough, no more hating myself for the mistakes I made, no more wishing you would come back to me.
I’m done with you. I won’t be texting you anymore, or calling to see if you want to hang out. I won’t try to be your friend, and I’m giving up all hope of ever being with you again.
For the first time, I’m better off without YOU, instead of the other way around.