To My Alison, something I can't call you again
Hi, Alison
This is my writing. It is an attempt to express my feelings on a variety of subjects that I'm unable to do otherwise, mainly due to the fact that at the time I didn't feel you needed to be victim to my thoughts. Perhaps one day you will read this but I believe that is most likely not the case. Yet I will still write, because I need to. It's the 4th of December in 2013. A day ago you finally had the soul to tell me the truth. I'm now in the process of trying to figure out how to proceed. My mind is clouded with emotions, I don't want to fill myself with hate or bitterness coming out of this, but I also feel there is a lot of legitimate anger for me to have because of what happened. I am also sad, so very sad, and hurt. I want to start with my anger and end with it.
You betrayed me. We entered in to a relationship, an agreement between ourselves that we were claimed by each other. You set the terms of the relationship as being monogamous, a closed relationship. You had someone else for "4 months" while you were still seeing me. You got back together with me, while you had him. I don't even know what level your relationship with him existed at. Were you friends, did you abstain from dating while with me, did you cheat on me? What about your "temporary" breakup with me, I won't find out most likely.
You lied to me. How many days were a lie? I can't count. Every moment past when you clocked out of our relationship was a lie to me. You told me in your post-June breakup letter that you hadn't met someone else. You told me that you were coming up to see me. You told me that you loved me a few days before you were supposed to come up.
You abused me. You took advantage of my time and feelings when you already had someone else. You strung me along instead of being forthright with me. You let me spend my time and money buying things for you that I can never give you now. You let me plan things that we'll never do. I was going to take you to Zoo Atlanta to see the baby pandas and their mother. I was going to take you to have tepanyaki for the first time. I spent time cleaning and preparing your room, getting mine ready for you, getting the bathroom clean. I spent nights without being able to sleep to comfort you. I gave up doing things with acquaintances and for myself so I could be there for you, those nights where you wanted me to stay on Skype with you as you slept. I had to give up doing anything that used bandwidth lest the call drop and it make noise and disturb your sleep. I gave up so many Saturday ShackTac sessions to talk to you on Skype or on the phone when you were lonely and wanted me. I sacrificed time I could have spent studying to talk with you on the phone. I would have given up so much more for you and this is the respect you showed for me.
You hurt me. You dragged me along in a relationship that didn't exist. I felt like a fool when you showed obvious disinterest in me constantly. I couldn't understand why you were suddenly so put off by the things I would say to you. You stopped telling me you loved me and let me keep telling you that I did. I always thought I was doing something wrong. You showed me so much contempt and never told me why. I would writhe in discomfort and finally slip in to bed and almost want to cry because I was so confused as to what was going on. You left me standing in downtown Atlanta by myself at night, in the cold, with only a slight hope that you would be there on that bus. I told you I wasn't going to be there, that was my lie. I would never risk leaving you alone in such an unsafe place, and I would never stand you up. I walked back to the car trying to stop myself from crying in front of everyone. I didn't want you to feel bad about standing me up, even after everything that happened. Then you told me the truth, finally.
I can't fault you for finding someone else, Alison. That's how relationships work, they're a trial basis. They don't work out, or they do. You were only doing what you felt was best for you in life and that's okay. What I do, and will fault you for is your execution. You let me get caught up in the crossfire and you hurt me. Perhaps you were naive, or maybe you didn't love me at all. I'd like to think someone who cared about me wouldn't have let this get so out of control. Cutting me loose post-June was the right thing, though I would have appreciated your honesty then. I don't hate you, even though I wish I could. I can't let myself temper my feelings and logic in hatred, it's just not reasonable. I still love you and that is most likely never going to change. But I don't think I can ever look at you again and not see what you did to me. I don't think I could ever be in a relationship with you again and not doubt you.
I didn't say any of these things to you when I told you I had no reason to know you anymore. It's true. We could never be friends, I don't even really believe you'd want to be friends with me. You have someone else now and I wish you're happy, but there's just so much sourness in what I've written now that this should be a time for you to be free of me and not worry about this.
This next part is for myself, I don't think I'd ever show this to you even if I was in a situation to vent this letter to you. It's going to be me, the part of me that you never really got to know. There is something very wrong with me as a person. I'm damaged, I have been for as long as I can remember and I don't know why. I don't have friends, I don't do social situations, I break down when I can't attribute some sort of logic to something. Getting involved with you was a mistake. I'm not sure if I ever loved you at all. I realize how absurd that sounds given how much I'm recoiling from losing you. I wasn't ready for a relationship, I'm not mature. The first time I told you I loved you I was scared. I thought you were going to say it to me first, it didn't feel right.
I was lying in bed waiting for you to come lie down and you were writing me the letter where you thanked me for everything. I blurted it out once you got in bed and you told me that you didn't love me and I said that's okay. I don't know if I really did back then. I often mused on the idea that event somehow tricked you in to a relationship with me. You were attractive and I wanted you, physically. I think I built a physical attraction to you before an emotional one.
We spent all those nights together with my arm wrapped around you. I watched you sleep and wished I could have you. I told you that I wanted you and you told me that you weren't ready. The truth is that I wasn't either. Our talk slowly started to become sexual and then you started to ask me questions like if I was a virgin or not. We moved down that path until eventually we had sex. I regret it so much. I wasn't ready for it at all, I'm still not. It was too soon in to our relationship even at 6 months in (though you still assert we weren't together until basically we started having sex). I've gone to take a shower and looked at myself in the mirror only to ask myself what I've done and why. I gave you something of myself I'll never get back and now I'm ruined for it.
The scene wasn't right for either of us. But Alison, I must say now that I am so happy I made that mistake. When I was with you I knew a happiness of what love you gave me that made me for once in my life feel like I had a reason to live. There was a time when I wasn't sure if I loved you, but I genuinely believe I did right from the start. The fact that I cared for you, never wanted to hurt you, tried to do so much for you affirms how I feel. I don't know why I doubt myself with things like that sometimes, perhaps it's a thing we all do and I just don't know it. My true regret isn't the mistake, just that it was such a short mistake and that it ended like it did.
I want to move forward now and not let this fester in me. I don't know how long it'll be before I enter in another relationship. Truth be told I don't normally like people and you were certainly an anomaly. Some things should stay within so here I will end. My mind is too loud to write all of my feelings the way I wanted to, but this should suffice as some form of catharsis.