The Letter I’ll Never Send

As you know, I’m not the most eloquent of speakers to say the least, so I’ve decided I need to write down exactly what I’m thinking, so I don’t forget anything or put it off again. I’ve wanted to say what I’m thinking for ages but I keep putting it off because I’m scared, or hopeful things will magically get better, or a terrible procrastinator or something – I don’t know. But I’m sitting here wishing more than anything that I could make cuts in my skin to make the pain I’m feeling physical, anything to distract from the all-consuming aching in my chest. But I won’t. Because I’m better than that. Because I don’t want any future children of mine to think it’s acceptable to let yourself stay in a situation where self harm is the only way to make things better. I want and deserve more than to be made to feel like this on a regular basis.

Well …… I’m amazed I’ve put up with your shit for this long. I know I’m good at overlooking things but this has really gotten ridiculous. The way your eyes glaze over when I’m talking, and the fact you don’t even pretend to give a shit about what I’m saying anymore have finally tipped me over the edge. You have a massively inflated sense of your own self importance, and a compulsive need to dominate everyone around you. I want to be challenged, but not conquered. And all you seem to want out of this relationship is to crush me.

I guess I knew it from the start, but all I am is a t shirt to you. Something you like the look and feel of for now, but will throw away when you get bored of me or the fashion changes. You don’t care about my day, things that are important to me, or me. And I am fucking worth caring about. You’re not making me happy anymore; the fact that your brother cared more about my day hit it home for me that this is not what a relationship should be. I am exhausted from you constantly making me feel less than I am, with how quickly you dismiss my opinions or thoughts. Obviously I’m not interesting all of the time, but neither are you, and I don’t snub what you say just because it’s not totally riveting.

What doesn’t affect you doesn’t interest you. But your day, and your …. you made and were so proud of didn’t directly affect me, yet it interested me because it was important to you. If you truly cared about me, you’d care about things that happened to me and things I did too. I’m used to my friends and family listening to what I have to say, and responding. I’m used to people respecting me. I, like many other people, don’t deal well with hearing that what I say is inconsequential and boring, however true it may be. I can be happy around you when I’m feeling confident and secure in myself, but if I come to see you having had a bad day, or feeling sad, I’m not likely to be cheered up by your company. You’re cynical and rude, and I’m not strong enough to keep building up my self esteem from all the times you tear it down. However, I can get you out of my life and keep those positive people around me.

We’ve had some grand times, but unfortunately the scales are tipping towards bad as the default status. A few nights of spooning can’t make up for the countless times you’ve purposely made me feel insecure and not worth listening to. You’re just like those bitchy girls I could never stand at high school, who subtly manipulate and put down others to get their own sick sense of power. I know you know exactly what you’re doing, and from how bad it’s been lately I’m guessing you’re not too happy with us either. It almost seems like you’re seeing how far you can push me and get away with, and now you’ve found out. It’s embarrassing when I think about how obvious it is that I matter so little to you.

I can’t be satisfied with someone who sees sex as the main component in a relationship. I want someone who shares my values, interests and is concerned about what I have to say. I like you most when you’re talking about something you’re passionate about, like your plans to……….. You just shut me down all the time – whether it’s with silence or a blatant rebuttal, and like me most when we’re fucking. It’s shallow, and you could find that with anyone. You might get far in life in terms of wealth and admiration, but I highly doubt that you’ll end up happy if all you pursue are your own selfish interests.

My ex was a pretty shit boyfriend, but being with you has highlighted a few things I took for granted about him, and which should be present in any relationship. Lately I’ve been remembering all his good qualities; mainly the rather integral quality of him actually caring about me. I’d rather do nothing with someone who loves every single part of me – even the imperfections, than travel the world with someone who feels like he can do better than me – like I’m just someone to pass the time with until they get their groupies and fame. Am I just a body to be used for sex to you, or a source of mild amusement? Why did you even ask me out in the first place? I feel like I’ve been put in a box as ‘girlfriend’, and you don’t care too much about going any deeper. You don’t want to find out about the inner workings of my personality and being; my stories and secrets are trivial to you. Not worth worrying about when there’s marvellous you to talk about!

What I want is a soul mate that I can’t live without, and who is incomplete without me. I want to be one of those fragile old couples who are the only thing holding each other together. I want a Mr Darcy, a Gatsby, a Romeo who wants me and only me. Will I find my fairytale? I have no idea. But I’d rather have nothing at all and live in hope, than settle for a mediocre compromise for love. There is no point in being with someone unless you think it could be forever, so I don’t want to waste yours or my time any longer.

A Poem I Found on Tumblr (lafilleimaginaire) that describes how I feel more perfectly than I can write it.

I want to love you like I am sorry I have not found you in elementary school and loved you daily since.
I want my every word to go through to you and land with a thud somewhere in the bottom of your heart and pump all over your body and you will walk around a mess of words racing inside veins. You will know how beautiful it hurts. I want to turn you into poetry, the kind that makes people ache and they will keep you alive in their heads for eternity. I want my feelings to consume you and you to consume them along with your favorite breakfast cereal.
But the thing is, I cannot.
I cannot because when I look at you, I want you to have peace and summer days. When I kiss you, I cannot seem to kiss hard enough to make it bruise. I do not want my words to hurt you and my feelings are not your morning pancakes.
I cannot because when I look at you, there is a stillness of the sea.
I cannot because your words sound a little too perfect as if you have rehearsed them so many times. A little too sharp, as if they have gone through the gears of other girls’ minds and kept them awake at night (and I am sure they did).
And your hand does not fit quite right with mine.
And when you touch me, I do not feel anything except the calluses from when you touched a plethora of bodies in the same spots.

I’m absolutely not telling you this so that you will change, or do things differently. You are you, and I am sure you will eventually find someone who perfectly suits you, and will love you for who you are. I’ll miss how we are when it’s just us together, but honestly this was never going to work long term.

We’ve had some amazing experiences together, and I’m sad we never got to do a lot of the things we said we would. Going down to the…….. and the nights we spent driving around talking or arguing were times I’ll always remember. But it’s not enough for me anymore. I’ve tried burying my negative emotions under warm memories for a long time, but they keep clawing through to the surface. You can’t give me what I need to be happy, and I have decided I am better off alone. It’s over.

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