monstredemiroirs - Tumblr blog

monstredemiroirs · 4 years

Text

Dear ------

This will be the very last time I ever write about you. I want you to understand that I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this for me. I need to close the final chapter in the horror story that was us, and this, to me, is the way to complete the story.

In order for me to progress with my life I had to get rid of you entirely. You’re a blight, and you would never be happy seeing me succeed or be happy. It’s funny. For so long I tried to climb out of the mud we cultivated. And any time you saw me start to finally climb out, you would reach your hand out, knowing that I would always grab it the moment I saw. For the longest time I thought I could pull you out. I was wrong. I finally understand, now, that you never wanted to be pulled out, you wanted to pull me deeper. Back into the pit with you. I finally understand this, and I refuse to ever grab your hand again.

Cutting you out of my life was actually surprisingly easy. I thought I could never do it, that you’ll always, somehow, be a part of my life. But no. I got out. I finally feel the sun shine on my face, and I have absolutely no intention to ever feel as cold, dirty, and dark as you made me feel.

You’re a black hole. A void. You’ve convinced so many people that you’re this good man, but you really aren’t. I know you. I know the deepest recesses of your soul, and truth be told it’s ugly. The fact that you can sit back and live with yourself after all the hurt you’ve caused someone you supposedly “love”(though I doubt you’re capable of such an emotion), and take no action to better yourself or seek help for your addictions, leads me to believe that you feel justified in your actions. You did nothing wrong. It’s not you. It never is. It’s the alcohol. It’s the cocaine. It’s your upbringing. Stop it. You are your own problems. You can’t keep committing horrible acts and then just feel sorry about yourself like that makes things better. It doesn’t and it’s not working. You’re still garbage.

Can I tell you a secret? A long time ago you asked me if you should move up north. Far away from down here. I convinced you to go. I told you that you needed to get out of the poison in this town to start fresh. This is the most selfish act I may have ever committed. I convinced you to leave because I would never be lifted from your spell had you stayed. The cycle would’ve continued, and I wasn’t strong enough at the time to break through. This town isn’t the poison. You are. You’re toxic sludge, and everything you touch succumbs to your toxins.

I know I’m not without my own faults in this. It does take two to tango. The difference is that I own up to my actions, and I sought help in time to become better than the person I was with you. And even with all I did, it doesn’t come close to all the abuse you put me through.

Speaking of abuse, let’s talk about some of it. I heard through the grapevine that you were asking about me. About how I “couldn’t handle you being in a relationship with someone else.” Ha! Really now? Truth be told, I feel sorry for him. He’s going to have to go through all the same pain and hate I endured. And if he knows all the acts you put me through, and continues to stay, then he deserves every last ounce of the pain. But I digress. Since I can’t handle not being with you, let’s talk about some of the things I went through when we were together.

Let’s talk about your disappearing acts. About how you wouldn’t answer my calls or texts for sometimes weeks at a time. You knew me well by then. You know I was a ball of anxiety and you knew every moment you couldn’t just give me confirmation that you’re still alive made things worse. I spent so many nights unable to sleep because I straight up didn’t know if you were alive, if you were hurt, or even if you cared. By the amount of attention you would give me, at least one of those questions was consistently answered, I was just far too in denial to believe it.

Let’s talk about how you were obviously in love with your roommate while we were “together.” You lamented to me, your then partner, your feelings for this man. Oh how you went on for hours about how you two can never be. He was straight, and had no feelings towards you, and it crushed you. You know who it crushed more? Me. I couldn’t leave then. I kept thinking to myself “what can I do to make him feel for me like he feels for him? Is there anything I can do differently? Maybe if I did X, Y, Z, then maybe, just maybe, he’ll see what I can be for him and he’ll love me back.” I was sick. You were worse. Instead of letting me go then and letting me mourn, you continued to string me along like a sick dog on a leash. Oh, and then you drunkenly cheated on me with him. Remember? Remember how you would call my phone for weeks, drunkenly sobbing? Unable to say any words. I knew you were broken, but I never knew how absolutely shattered you were. It was so nice of you to finally tell me about it on a day where I was riding high. So excited about a Halloween Party and a costume contest I won 2nd place. I was so used to being 2nd place with you around. You took such a great day and made it so ugly. You were astounding in your ability to suck any happiness right out of me.

Let’s talk about how you treated me as if I was some shameful disgusting secret to be hidden away from your world. Any time anyone from your life became suspicious, or even was about to see you and I was there, you immediately dismissed me. The Freak. The Monster. He cannot be seen. He’s not worthy of being a part of my life or in my circle. No. I can’t have that. And yet I stayed. I thought that if I showed my loyalty and dedication, maybe someday you would see me as worthy if being part of your court. Wrong. I never stood a chance. Even when you finally, FINALLY, accepted me into your world, I still couldn’t be anything significant to you. I was introduced as your friend, or worse, an ex. An ex that you were currently still seeing, sleeping with, and telling you love behind closed doors. The damage that caused me. I felt so worthless all the time. I believed I was nothing because I couldn’t be anything to you.

Let’s talk about your addictions. You’re an alcoholic. We all know it. No, it is not normal for an average person to down two cases of that disgusting piss-water Bud Lite in one evening. So often you would convince me to take you across county lines at 2 AM just so that you could continue drinking. And no matter how much I begged you to stop, slow down, or maybe take the night off, you absolutely refused. Night after night I saw you pound down drinks and become more belligerent. And the chain smoking. Oh the chain smoking. How I wanted so much for you to just sit with me when I was over and just spend time with me. Hold me. Tell me that I mattered. And you couldn’t bring yourself to do that. Instead, you would just smoke and drink. Did I disgust you that much? So much so that you couldn’t be around me without being so intoxicated you couldn’t function? Smoking so many cigarettes in succession you’d lose your voice? Were you that horrified by my presence? Why continue to keep me around? Questions I probably will never have answered. Not that I honestly care to know any longer, anyhow.

Let’s talk about the worst night. That night. The one you probably had hoped, if I really had ever sent this letter to you, that I wouldn’t bring up. Let’s talk about the time you had your best friend over, who in return invited me over. I remember driving to your house on my highest of highs. Finally. I was being accepted as part of your life. Someone knows my existence. Only to have you open the door and see a face of shock and horror at the sight of me. Let’s talk about how you humored me for a moment, then immediately kicked me out because you couldn’t handle the fact that someone would find out more about me. Do you remember that night? Probably not. That was the night that, in a panic, my car broke down on the highway. I walked home. Distraught, all I wanted was to call my boyfriend so he can talk me down. I called. I learned something that day. I learned that you were good friends with little white lines. A shock to me. I had no idea. You couldn’t form sentences. You went off on wild nonsensical tangents over nothing, and become enraged the moment that I tried to end the call. I was shocked, uncomfortable, and frankly disgusted. It was the first time I was ever disgusted by one of your actions. And the more I tried to distance myself, the more you berated me and called me horrible names. The following morning I begged you to never do that again. I had never asked for anything of you before that. Just this request. You wouldn’t even give me that.

Let’s go deeper. Let’s talk about the night you finally cut me loose. I’m glad you did, but did you have to do it on Christmas Day? After me ending a call because I was horrified at the sound of you snorting a line? After you spoke to my mother the very same day, excited to meet her and be part of my life? Did it really have to be on that day? Needless to say you ruined Christmas for me. And now, five years later, Christmas still brings me back to that night and how worthless and disgusting I felt because of you.

I wish I can say it ended there. I wish I can say that was it over. It wasn’t. Just two days later you convinced me to stay the best of friends. I needed to still feel like you cared. To this day, I wish I knew why. But I agreed. I agreed to remain a close friend, because clearly you still hadn’t taken all that you could away from me. But, truth be told, this is where the hurt took a weird turn.

Suddenly when I wasn’t a romantic partner in your life, now is when you wanted me around the most. You now had a sudden fascination with me. You kept me around. Strung me along. Slept with me whenever you could. And then we get to the end of a big chapter. The night before you moved away.

The weekend before you moved away, you stayed at my house. I let you in. You slept in my bed, ate my food, lived with me. Truth be told, this was the best time I ever felt with you. I felt like you loved me. Truly, truly loved me. I never wanted those days to end. Then came the final night. I left for a few hours. Couldn’t be more than 3-4. I had planned a big good bye for you. I even brought you food. I got home and you were gone. All your bags packed. No trace you were ever there. I felt abandoned. A feeling I felt often, but not and intensely as I felt that night. You told me that you weren’t a fan of goodbyes, and that you stayed at someone else’s house. You robbed me of my goodbye to you. I told you I forgave you. I told you that I forgave a lot. I didn’t. I harbored it all. I had developed a cesspool of anger and self-hatred. And that night made that pool bubble.

Was it over? No. At one point, it felt like it will never end. This was my life. I existed to build you up, and when you inevitably knocked yourself down, I was there to pick up the pieces and rebuild you with what I had left. It felt like I had less and less to work with each time.

You still needed me. I became your security blanket. Oh if I can just remember all the drunken calls at 3 AM because you were all alone. And you knew I’d always answer. And no matter how many times I would beg for you to seek help for your alcoholism, to please visit AA or see a therapist. It fell to deaf ears. You always told me that all the advice I gave you, you took to heart. You were always a fantastic liar.

It suddenly became a consistent cycle. I would distance myself to begin my climb out of the mud, you’d eventually notice and reach your hand out, I pulled, you pulled harder, and I fell in. It always ended with you getting drunk and doing actions that upset and hurt me, even with all the distance. You never seemed bothered by my pain. A simple “sorry” got you far with me. Eventually, you apologies felt like ghosts. Hollow. You made me feel like a ghost too.

Then came the night. The night that I decided that enough was enough. But before the night came the day. Let’s talk about that day.

You called me after a month hiatus. I pretended that I didn’t know why I hadn’t contacted you, but I did. You got drunk the month before and almost had a 3-way with your cousin, you classy beast you. But I digress, you called. Eventually you got to the topic of having a new boyfriend. I had mixed feelings about this. On one hand, I was truly happy for you for finding a new romantic partner. But on the other hand, I felt bad for this boy, knowing what he was getting himself into. That was exacerbated by you telling me that you were already performing your now infamous disappearing acts on him.

What dug under my skin, and what started the series of events that led to me stepping out, was when you told me that you were cutting down on your drinking. You were cutting down because you didn’t like being drunk around this boy all of the time. I’m sorry, what? You mean to tell me you couldn’t cut down 1 beer when I literally begged you to, but for this boy you were practically quitting drinking? What made him so special over me? And how insignificant was I that you wouldn’t even try? For someone you claimed you love so much, you really put no effort into meeting me halfway on really anything. It was always me giving it my all, and you taking everything you can get. Loving you was like loving a drunk brick wall.

Shortly after our conversation, when I still had a Facebook, I remember you changed your status to in a relationship. And posted a picture with him. You won accolades from all your friends for living your truth. And a part of me wanted to celebrate with them. However, I couldn’t. All I could think about was how I wanted to be him so badly back in the day, and how you treated me so shamefully. Why was he so special? Why was he the one to displayed to the world and I was considered too disgusting to be seen? Was it because I wasn’t as much of a closet case as you? That’s more than likely the case. Far be it from you to be seen with such a diabolical faggot on your arm. But I digress.

Let’s finally talk about that night. That night, the very same day you told me you cut out drinking, I get one of your infamous drunken 3 AM phone calls. Except this time was different. I’m not answering. You were no longer my responsibility. You had a new boyfriend you paraded around like he was best in show, and it was his turn to learn who you really were behind the smile and charm. I let it go. You couldn’t take no for an answer. You never could. You called, and called until finally I answered. I don’t know who was on the other end of the phone, but it wasn’t you. It was a belligerently drunk monster. One that couldn’t form sentences between howling and sobbing like a coyote at the moon. Something about being found naked on a beach, being yelled at by patrons over your nudity, being in an Uber(despite not having an account), and bleeding from your foot. Truth be told, I thought you had been raped and assaulted. I stayed on the phone with you until what I think was you getting home. I don’t know. I can’t tell. To this day I don’t know more than half of the words that came out of your mouth. All I can think of was the rage I was feeling. You told me you were better. At this point, I genuinely didn’t want you to be my partner. I just wanted my friend to get better with his addictions. I thought you were finally getting there, and that call solidified that you will never get better, because you probably still think that you don’t have a problem.

I took a half day out of my job because of you. I took a half day because I didn’t sleep that night. I was convinced you weren’t going to make it through. Do you remember what I sent you that following day? It was the information for an AA center in your town. It wasn’t funny any more. It was never funny or cute. It was dangerous and scary and you couldn’t do it alone. And all I got as a response was “sorry.” Not accepting a problem. Not even a false promise that you’ll try it. Just another one of your constant ghost apologies. As hollow and false as you are.

This was my breaking point. I starred at that excuse for an apology and I thought to myself “Is this what I want for the rest of my life? To never launch because you can’t let me do it? You need me to be as low as you. You need it to feel alive. You need to have that control over something weaker than you. Not any more. I am not your fucking clown any longer. I decided that this was it. I don’t need the fleeting moments of feeling your love followed by the hours, days, months, and years of agony you make me feel.

I wanted to be free of the poison you had coursing through my veins. I wanted to climb out of the mud, stare at the sun, and grow tall. That is why I blocked you out of my life. That is why I cut all ties and made sure that there was no way you can ever dig your claws into me again. It was never about how I “couldn’t handle you seeing someone else.” If that’s what you need to tell yourself to keep denying the blight that you are, then keep thinking that way. It’ll keep you going that much further. I honestly can keep going on with more, but I feel this letter really is long enough.

So you asked around how I am doing, allow me to divulge you one last time. I am amazing. I actually sought help for my demons. I went to therapy. I worked hard on myself. For the first time in my life I have self respect, and self love. A feeling I would never be able to develop with your influence. I am fantastic in my finances, got a new car, and have an amazing support network of friends and family that I would never give up for anything in the world. And how are you? You don’t need to answer. I can take a wild guess. Still drunk. Still sad. Still self-hating. Still pathetic. And it is no longer my problem.

So like I said, this is the last time I’ll ever write about you. This is also the last time I’ll ever speak of you, and think of you. I relinquish you from my mind, body, and soul. I free you of me. Good bye, ------.

May you never cross my mind again,

Me.

0 notes