You said you would be willing to do long distance. I was willing to throw everything in. You said you were, too. To go from talking of moving in together, to possible long distance, to you not wanting me anymore. It hurts.
I’m sorry you need to move away for treatment. You need your family as a support group. I understand that, too. But I thought I offered you some sort of support. Was holding you at night, as you cried for no reason, not enough? Was cleaning your sick up when you were ill not enough? Was telling everyone who said I should finish with you that they were wrong, not enough?
You said you can barely keep yourself together, never mind a relationship. I’ve been there with you during your depression. I’ve stood by you, despite everything. Through the tears, through the anger, through the bad times. And now this. Nothing. No tears from you. No regret. No apologies. No answers.
Now I’m the one who can barely keep it together. Beneath the fake smiles and constant “banter”, I’m broken. Focus at work or university is impossible now. I can barely register what day it is.
The thing that hurts the most is that it seems this was a decision you made some time ago. Saturday night, we were going to try our best. Sunday afternoon, you don’t want me. No hugs. No tears goodbye. Nothing.
I sent you the most heartfelt message I’ve ever sent. I want you to get better, and to do whatever that takes. No reply. No acknowledgment. Nothing.