When I began to reflect on what I would write tonight, I found it hard to determine who my audience for this letter would be. Who do I need to tell my feelings to in order to feel better. My best friend? Perhaps only anethestically would that work; but the comfort would be temporary. D? He doesn’t have the capacity to understand. M? To bow to him as absent determinant of who I was, who I am, and who I will always be — no, though a part of me believes that, I don’t want to and I therefore will not act in accordance with that belief.
Today, I’ll write to myself. In all fairness, the longer I’ve stood silent as things tore me apart, the more dichotomous I’ve felt. It’s embarrassing, hopefully this is the first step towards resolving that dissonance.
Dear Jane,
I write your name and I cringe. I’m embarrassed that we’ve become so separate that I once again can acknowledge you as a separate person. You’re anxious and afraid, and you keep me silent. Your fears make me a liar because you make me question an obvious reality.
Calling it “obvious” makes me cringe as I feel your words of discouragement twist in my gut. Any evidence I see to think that others may value me makes you upset. You can’t rectify that with your worldview or with your self concept. Why do you think you’re important enough to be hated? Most people don’t care – and that bothers you, doesn’t it? You want to be loved, but the thought of it makes you fucking sick. Honestly, with the way you’ve let yourself become, no one will love you. The second someone shows they care about you, you push them so far away.
Every relationship you’ve ever had has been transactional, and that’s your doing. You’re so convinced that you’re a burden that you find ways to pay people back for the action of simply tolerating you. You’re only feeding leeches when you do that; the “good ones” that actually care about you are only hurt when you refuse to accept their unconditional kindness. Most people, when someone is hurting them repeatedly, decide to go away. You’ve created your own hell, and at the end of the day, it truly is a fucking choice.
I hate you. I hate every fucking bit of you. I hate the way you look. I hate the way you think. I hate the way you let others treat us. And most of all, I hate that I truly believe that we deserve it. Look at what you’ve made me into. Callous, filled with rage, quick-triggered, and really fucking exhausted. All while you get to sob for the temporary comfort of others. Was it really fucking worth it you useless whore? Lick your self-inflicted wounds and leave the people you claim to care about out of it. Why do you keep hurting them? Why are you dooming us to be alone?
Why’d you have to leave me with D? I know what C did wasn’t right, but why were you so fucking scared that you ran back to D? Even though you had just left A, you know you could’ve just had him back if it was truly a matter of being alone. Was it the virginity thing? Not wanting another body count? You figured if you couldn’t have C then you may as well keep the count low by going back to D?
Was it because C hurt us in a way that we didn’t know was possible? Seeing how things turned out now, I would go back to him a heartbeat, but maybe that’s just a testament to how bad I let things get. He knew what he was doing that night; then he punished me further by cutting me off; then he came back and tried to win me over again and with every bit of self-control I could summon, I refused. He asked if I didn’t feel like the last time things happened was consensual. I didn’t answer, but I stared him in the eyes. He apologized. He kept trying to win me back, and I should’ve let him. I miss him. Even if he hurt me, even if it was intentional, at least he could recognize when I was in pain. If I’m being honest, I deserved what he did to me. I should’ve known to be loyal when he tested me.
I think about the role I played with C. I don’t know why he fell in love with me, and I don’t know why I believed him. I still believe him, even after that and after all that time has passed. I never thought D loved me, at times, I believe he has nothing but contempt for me. I knew that from the moment he didn’t listen when I begged him to stop. Ultimately, it seems that C made me feel less lonely. He demonstrated an ability to take on my worldview, and act in accordance to my irrationalities in a way that always made me feel safe until that one night.
That one night is scary. A man that loves you can still hurt you. I never ever would’ve expected that from him. He temporarily left me out of anger, and I quickly went back to D. I knew what to expect with him – and damn, I really fucking got it.