It was the middle of a hot August afternoon. You were at school that day. I was at home. In my usual productive non-trusting manner of you, I took my time alone and got on your computer. The first thing I did was logged into your email. You had obviously been the wiser to delete any internet history that I would’ve used against you like I had so many times before. As I logged in to your email, I saw that you created a dating profile. A tinge of relief came over me. I had invaded your privacy, but now I found something which justified my actions; at least to me. After requesting to have a new password sent to me, or you rather, I logged into your profile. I was in awe and surprised to see that the type of girl you were looking for on a superficial level was superficially exactly me. You wanted a girl who had tattoos, who was creative and was into the same type of music. All of those one-dimensional things applied to me; the difference was I was the character defined by eight years of your equivocal character.
I knew you.
You came home and I took to questioning you, but not in my typical “what the fuck” accusatory manner. Rather, I wanted, needed to understand what was going on with you; and me. We sat in our second bedroom, which had become completely yours; the second bedroom in which you slept when things became severely uncomfortable between us, a room in which you used to compartmentalize all of your joy; the music room, the porn room it was your room. We sat on the cream carpeted floor next to the closet and confessed and cried. You were honest about creating that profile. You were unhappy. You were unhappy with the recent move that benefited me, unhappy in trying to pursue your music away from your band at the time and unhappy with us. I felt that I had failed. After years of lying and cheating on your end, and trying and trying and trying, there was no escaping that I had become the person I never wanted to be in a situation I never wanted to be in with the person I loved the most.
You said to me, “I am just afraid that I will never be able to make you happy.”
We both cried.
At that moment, I knew that everything we had worked and tried for over the past 8 years was over. I was never going to entirely have you.
We left that conversation in a fashion that suggested we were going to try to still make things work. Classic, eh? The next morning you had received a few picture text messages from a so-called lesbian in lingerie. Of course, I saw them and, of course, I was hurt and, of course, she was lesbian and it didn’t mean anything. Hit rewind.
Later that week, we had a trip planned to go back to our hometown. We decided that we would stay separate of each other to allow us each time to visit with our respective friends and family. What that time would eventually come to mean to me, was a time to self- crucify.
That first night, I had made plans with an ex-boyfriend of mine. He was older, sensitive, caring and he was everything I wanted and needed at the time. His light counteracted the darkness I had grown so accustomed to with you. I used him for it. The worst part about going to see him was that I was upset about you. I felt hurt and betrayed and just lost. I went to him like a beaten dog and let him clean me up.
I showed up the next day to pick you up. It was time to drive back. I did not say a word to you about what had happened the night before. I acted as if everything was as we left it, like a bitch.
Just as we approached our turn to begin our journey back, you saw my neck. “What the fuck is that on your neck?” you exclaimed. I honestly did not know that there was anything incriminating since I was not 16. Even though I realized this was the repercussion of my intended actions, those actions were not done out of my want and desire, rather they felt necessary to end the cycle. Yet, I denied everything that you could throw at me. I lied. I kept from you like I had learned from you.
It was over.
You were my world and I had just got caught delivering and irreversible blow to that world. Everything that I had cried over and fought for, I self-sabotaged. I knew that even though I had been able to forgive you for the same actions, that you would never be able to do the same. As I look back on it now, many years later and I realize that I thought we never really loved each other. How could we? I always felt unloved. And I know that you did too. But, we did love each other the best that we knew how. I mean we were engaged. I had no real understanding of what we were doing to each other at the time, how instead of building each other up, we were best at tearing each other down.
For all of this, and all the pain that was caused, please know that I am sorry; that my actions were a reflection of how I felt about myself at the time and were heart-crushing projections that endangered you as a person. I truly hope for nothing but love and light to you and ultimately fulfillment.