Dear Lover,

You were my lover, my friend, my partner, my soul, my heart, my mirror, my grounding, my punching bag, my serenity, my chaos, my balance, my teacher, my student, my salvation, my enemy, my confidant, my security, my insecurity, my fear, my breath, my pain, my life.

My world didn’t revolve around you, it’s true, but my heart beat for you and it ached for you. I love(d) you without conditions, despite it all, through it all.  My happiness tied into you, my unhappiness tied into you.  When you suffered, I suffered, in your joy I was joyous, when you wept, I wept, with you, for you. My being quietly tangled into yours. All of my missing pieces made up of you.

I love(d) you. I trusted you.  I needed you.

Somewhere along the way you got lost and made me out to be the bad guy, the reason for all your troubles instead of your support. But between the anger, disappointment and resentment there was also happiness and laughter and love.  There was forgiveness and compassion and kindness, there was patience, discovery, exhilaration, fulfillment, content, aspirations, dreams. And even then, through those difficult times, the animosity, the resentment, the anger, I was still yours. Always yours. How could you forget.

You brought out the worst in me and it made me want to better for you, for us. But you could never do the same, you could never find the space to compromise for me, always expecting, always taking, never giving.

I love hard, I get angry quickly but I forgive easily too. I am difficult but I am also kind and gentle and excited and impulsive and loyal. I felt safe in being completely and unapologetically myself with you. You were my other half, you brought me back down, you helped me see. You changed me, I wanted to change for you.  I wanted to be the woman you needed, I wanted you to be the man I needed.  To walk alongside each other after everything we’ve been through- Victorious.  Changed, better for each other, because of each other. I wanted us to figure it out together.

You told me that you loved me. But you don’t understand what love means, what it really means. What happened to working things out, what happened to talking things through, what happened to love.  You promised me that things would be different.  The only difference was in the way you chose to hurt me this time, the scars you chose to leave me with.  The finality of it.  So certain that this was the best choice for you, that you could be happier with her. Someone you didn’t know. Always ready to run away because it was easier then to stay and fix things. Too selfish to see outside of yourself. Always without consideration for anyone but yourself. And so the story goes.

And yet I was wrapped up in you, in us, in the possibilities, in the hopes, in the dreams, I had big dreams for us. But the endpoint for you was always about you. You told me I was difficult to love, but in reality it is your own inability to love that made it difficult.

I gave you my heart. I gave you my love. I gave you my soul. I gave you my body. My dreams. My fears. I gave you the keys to my kingdom.  My glorious kingdom, frantic, chaotic, alive, unpredictable, spontaneous, unconstrained, free and fragile. So fragile.  How do you exist in a world without me when I am falling apart in a world without you.

I wish you would have opened up to me, talked to me, I wish you could have said all the things that you were feeling, I wish we didn’t have seven time zones separating us, I wish that work hadn’t taken up so much of my time (I was trying to build a foundation for us) I wish I had made more time, I wish I could take back time, I wish I could change things but mostly I wish you could have seen me, really seen me- with all my flaws and quirks, my insecurities, my imperfections and that you could have trusted in me, in knowing that I love(d) you and love me in return.

Because I was addicted to you. How could you not know.

When I cry at night, I cry for me.  I cry because of everything I gave and everything I lost.  I cry because of all my failures, the time I can’t take back, the mistakes I can’t fix.  I cry for all the accomplishments and success I am unable to appreciate, for all the wonderful people and opportunities that I can’t be grateful for. I cry because I loved a man* who could never love me in return, a man* who could abandon me so carelessly- so easily turn his back and walk away – when I could never turn my back on him. A man* who could take pleasure in the pain he caused me, who could feel better about himself, for feeling proud in causing me so much pain.

No, my world didn’t revolve around you, I didn’t need it to, I only needed you to love me, fully, faithfully, forever.


* I use the word man here, but I use it based on his genitalia and not because he embodies any characteristic that would define the term man.

This is a response to a letter I wrote, to myself, a few posts back called Dear Lover.  Ha- I wrote a response to a letter I wrote to myself, sometimes you have to laugh at the foolishness.