I can’t decide if I want you to read this or not. But I guess, since I’m submitting it out into the privacy-void that is the internet, somewhere in my being I’m hoping you’ll see it, and think of me.
Our meeting was unconventional at best. I didn’t love you instantly. But I knew I could rely on you, and that knowledge was like Christmas morning. I held you at a distance, because I was afraid. Your charming, witty, and humorous personality kept me interested– kept me coming back for more. Before I knew it, you had burrowed your way into my heart, and set up camp.
In a way, you were dangerous. You’d been places darker than I dared. But we had so much else in common, like we shared the same brain. I couldn’t just walk away. So I fell. Hard. I couldn’t believe how easy it all seemed; like a perfect and precious jewel had just incongruously fallen into my lap. And I couldn’t help but marvel into the wonder that had become my life. In me, you had restored perfect vision.
And I thought, “Here’s to hoping.”
Then suddenly, nothing was what it seemed. It was like watching a terrible and powerful earthquake, reducing everything I loved to indistinguishable rubble. Your lies helped you create the “you” you wanted to be. I felt betrayed, and hijacked. But I tried desperately to hold onto what I had grown to love and trust– only to find it had never existed. Even so, I couldn’t bear to walk away. And so I stayed, to help rebuild my fragile sense of you. I didn’t know at the time that my perceived strength by remaining by your side would later be perceived by you as weakness.
But I thought, “Here’s to hoping.”
Slowly, I found myself clinging when I should have let go, and you holding your pride when you should have been holding me. You were physically present– never more than just enough to tear my heart to pieces, and emotionally distant. I have never experienced pain so excruciating and so all-consuming, but I was a master at hiding my personal hell. I was too humiliated to admit to anyone that I couldn’t be to you what you were to me. I was trapped in a nightmare that had once been the best part of my reality.
My heartbreak was total. I knew if I didn’t leave that I would never be happy. At least, the shell of happy that could possibly be achieved in a world where I couldn’t have you. But I never escaped you– not really. I still love you with every fiber of my being, which in turn makes me despise myself for allowing it. You’re like an addiction I love followed by a withdrawal so severe I can’t help but loathe you. So when you were diagnosed with cancer, I couldn’t bear to watch you hurt alone. And now here we are, together, attempting the impossible. I’m not sure I will ever really be rid of the pain, that I can fully forgive you, or that you’ll ever change. I’m not sure if you’ll ever understand how badly you’ve broken me, or how dark those nights alone in our apartment really were. I’m not sure we can ever get back what we had, or if we’ll even make it to the end of the year. I’m not even sure you’ll survive this.
But here’s to hoping.