I’ll probably never send this letter … but I need to write it just to get my feelings on paper. I think I need to write it to convince myself that even if you did read it, nothing would change and I’d still be sitting here feeling broken and empty and so exhausted that even breathing is a strenuous task.
When I met you, everything changed. You were complicated and funny and so full of life that it intimidated me. It was so easy to fall in love with you. I was completely taken with you – with how passionate and unpredictable you were. I couldn’t read you or anticipate your next move – you were a complete mystery to me. And I loved that. You were the first guy I’d ever been with that I couldn’t control.
8 months later I’m sitting at work in yesterday’s makeup wondering how I let it get this bad. After 8 short months, I’m a shell of a person. I feel like I am literally DEAD inside. I’m broken.
You broke me.
I swore I would never let a man make me feel this way ever again and yet … here I am. As much as I would love to blame you for everything I’m feeling right now, I know that I played a part. I let it go too far – I let this happen. The girls warned me, your exes warned me, hell some of your own family warned me. I don’t know what I expected – did I really delude myself into thinking you’d change? Did I really think I was enough of a reason for you to get the help you need?
You need help, ******. You’ve screamed at me, thrown things at me, pushed me, held me down, called me names, mocked me, forced me out of my own house, stolen my car, stolen my money, manipulated me … and threatened my life. You threatened to kill me. You say you love me and you threatened to kill me.
I’ve lived in fear for much of our relationship. I’ve walked on eggshells every day for the past couple months. I’ve cried myself to sleep so many times that I’ve lost count. I’ve made countless exceptions and excuses for your abusive, jealous, controlling behavior that I actually started to believe some of them myself. I’ve become the kind of woman I pity.
This isn’t me. I am no longer the girl you fell in love with. That spark and life has been drained out of me and now I’m angry, bitter, jealous, and incapable of trusting you or myself. And that breaks my fucking heart. I grieve my personal loss of self more than I grieve the loss of our relationship. Before you … I loved myself.
I’ll get back to that place some day. I’ll be capable of trust and love and joy again. But for right now, my spirit, my heart, my will – they’re all broken. And for that, I fucking hate you.