The Letter

I wrote this to him, obviously. I read it to him and gave it to him on the date above, the first time we hung out, after the first time we spoke in person after he broke up with me. Thats the conversation that I learned she never knew I existed, at all. That she didn't know he was in a relationship, after months of talking, and beginning to hang out in person.

She's not the reason I lost him. That's all me. He doesn't love me the way that I love him. He fell out of love. He just didn't tell me until she came along. I guess I'm more surprised that he ever loved me. She didn't know I existed.

She didn't know I had told him I didn't believe in forever, but he made me want to. He told her the day after we talked. He went to see her. In person. Not by text.

She was okay with it. She assumed he was seeing other people, or talking to other people. Which is different, to me, than being in a committed, monogamous relationship. One of the many things I don't understand, embracing a relationship that began with a lie. A lie of omission, but still a lie. But, we are clearly very different women. 

This isn't really about that. I gave him this, and he said nothing, that he had to ponder. After he told her that I existed, and when he broke up with me, he said I was important, and he wanted to rebuild our friendship and trust.

While dating her.

And that it would be okay. He was sure of it.

Well, yeah. Okay for him.

I've never varied.

I'm in love with him.

I didn't break anything. 

I shouldn't have to prove myself.

He believes what happened wasn't cheating. 

Maybe he's right.

My mental health crisis is not his fault. There is a physical cause. It started before the breakup, when I lost my teeth. Which doesn'tmean his actions didn'tcause damage. He's apologized for his handling of everything. And thanked me for calling him out, and holding him accountable. 

I know, if you've been following me, you know all of this. I know I've been a train wreck. I just feel so lost. And confused. And disposable. And unlovable. In the After conversations he to me I was none of these things. And yet....and yet.

Our last conversation was on the phone, and I asked if we were going to talk. He said we just kept saying the same things over and over. But, he hasn't said anything since that letter I thought he was pondering.  Nothing. I got mad. I hung up. I thought maybe something might change. Not back to what we were.

I still cry everyday. From the good morning I don't send until I get to work. As I drive past the house where his offspring lives, where he sometimes is, staring straight ahead so as not to look for his car. Odd twist of fate, I've spent a lot of time in that house in my life.

I've lost my boyfriend. I've lost my friend. I've lost my comfort. I've lost my sense of safety. I've lost my sense of what is to come. I've lost some self esteem. I've lost my sense of trust. I've lost being able to believe when people say nice things about or to me. I've lost security. I've lost trusting my senses. 

Some of it is mental health, some is damage.

I miss him. I miss my friend. I miss my lover. I miss his laugh, and the way he crinkles around the eyes when he really smiles. I miss talking to him about mechanical stuff, the worn gear is one of the last pics I sent to him, a piece of one of my machines that should not be a stepped gear, in all it's steel glory. I miss his scent. I miss his skin. I miss holding his hand.

I know that anything from here would be like meeting again, square one. People keep telling me the man I'm in love with exists only in my head. But I know him. I know him.

And I'm confused.

And still hurt.

I told some of you that I walked away, and I have. I'm not forcing him to interact with me. I'm not messaging him. I'm not calling him.

It doesn't mean it's what I want, or I'm okay with it. A lot of damage has been done. I don't know what I want, but the complete silence from him feels punitive and cruel. Dismissive.

I miss the glow of his sun on my horizon.

I really miss stupid memes.

And food videos.

And kisses.

I'm working on a new project.

I'm trying to stop talking about this. I've screamed my throat bloody and spilt the blood from the heart ripped from my chest and it doesn't matter. Nothing, ever, in my life has made me feel like I mattered less. Like my feelings matter less. So hopeless, and helpless, and pointless.

That feels worse from the friend I guess I lost.