This is a letter to You that I will never send. It’s not for you. It’s for me.
I don’t hate you, I hate parts of your character. I hate your insecurities, your selfishness, and your controlling tendencies. I hate the way you put people down to bring yourself up. I hate how when I was finally strong enough to tell you to leave me alone you wouldn’t even take me seriously, how you tried to make sure that I would have no one else in my life. And I hate how when I turned to my friends you acted like that made me pathetic for wanting help, and how you told me I was exaggerating about the way you treated me.
Fuck you, I’m entitled to my emotions. You had no right to make me feel guilty about being hurt by you. I hate that you had the audacity to treat me horribly and try to convince me that I was imagining your abuse.
But, like I said, I don’t hate you. You made me hate myself. From all the negativity you threw at me, I did nothing but absorb it. Confusing it with closeness, honesty, a journey towards love. Beyond all the insults and subtle blows to my self worth was the hatred I buried for letting myself being subjected to your actions and a doormat for whatever you wanted. It disgusts me that I let my walls down for someone as low as you. I hate how I can’t let them down for people who actually deserve it because you made me feel like I wasn’t worthy of anything more than what you chose to give me.
I was disgusted at how I fell right into the textbook definition of an emotionally abusive relationship with you. I was that girl people look at and wonder why I put up with it, why I’m so stupid? Why I’d stick around for those couple moments of bliss and promises and apologies.
Sometimes I still see myself as weak and childish like you always said. I wonder if I’m as worthless as you played me out to be. I can remind myself of all I’ve accomplished and how far I’ve come in my womanhood, but I’ll still see my stupid beaver smile you teased me about, the couple of pounds I can shed, and wonder if you were right about my being destined for loneliness, because I’m nothing but some cold hearted bitch without you. Because I’m incapable of anything but being a mindless object, isn’t that right?
If I hated anyone it would be you. It should be you. Except I know you hate yourself enough for the both of us. I wish I had known that when I was with you. I wish it I knew that every insult you gave me wasn’t a measurement of my flaws, but a measurement of what you wished you could change in yourself. It took my months to undo the damage you did. It was hard to convince myself that I’m not a bad person just because I was in a bad relationship.
I could say that you taught me what not to look for in love. But you didn’t teach me anything. From my experience with you, I taught myself that I need to rid my life of people who suck others happiness. Next time someone is distrustful of me for no reason I will recognize it as his own insecurity, and not from anything in my character. I won’t let anyone assume or criticize because of what I have or have not done. Being nice doesn’t get rid of being mean.
You don’t deserve such a long letter. I’ve learned so much more from other people who showed me what it actually feels like to be cared about. I learned a lot more from people who let me care for them without taking advantage of my innocence and nurturing.
I don’t resent you anymore, but I meant it when I said I never want to see your face again. No matter how much you change, I can’t forgive you. I never will and you are going to have to live with that. Just as I will always have to accept all of the opportunities I missed out on from wasting my time with you.
You don’t get any sincere closing of this letter.