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I don’t want you, for one second, to feel good about what you did. I want you to carry this guilt within you, to affect the decisions you make in the future; it will make you weaker, but it will also make you more sensitive, more emphatic – qualities I always thought you could have worked on for a little longer.

I want you to know that me disappearing doesn’t absolve you of your sin – I want you to know that I haven’t been able to breathe since you left, that my chest feels like a rock hardening and tightening under my skin, rupturing the flesh underneath. I want you to know that I allowed you to let me imagine a future with you, something I had never done before, that I was so ready to be vulnerable because you told me I was taken care of, and I believed you.

I want you to understand that I heard the frustration in your voice last night when I tried to make conversation, when I followed what you said when you told me we could salvage the night. Inside I knew that you were waiting, that you were bidding your time until you could properly break up with me – even though you told me differently, even though you said things were going well, my mind whispered,  don’t believe him, but my heart wanted to believe every word you said because it was comfortable, because it was easier. Because it felt good to think that somebody loved you as much as you loved them; this thought is so powerful that I let it fool me into thinking it was true.

I want you to know that experience did shit; even after all I’ve been through and the lessons I learned, they taught me nothing in the end. I chose, instead, to purify myself with your words, everything else went unheeded.

I really thought there was that possibility – that this monster inside me could be bared and loved anyway, unconditionally, no matter how many times you resisted, no matter how many times you tried to communicate to me, wordlessly, that the things you were saying were not what you felt. We are our actions, not our words, and I saw your actions so well – they told me so much – but I stayed blind, because it was easier, because I was weak.

The only way I can forget you is to pretend we never happened – that the past year was a rift in time no one could account for.

I’m not going to be your friend because you need to understand that you can’t just use people and euphemize it with honesty; that when you tell somebody you love them you owe them responsibility; that your actions have consequences.

Remember that time when you sat across from me, and I told you, that once you start making a certain amount of money, you will change.

With a painfully confused look in your face you asked me what I meant.

“You’ll see,” was my only reply, “but remember this. Because you’ll see.”

 

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