It has been suggested that in times where you feel closure won’t be an option, writing a letter can be a good idea. Just get the feelings out. That’s supposed to be cathartic, but actually it wasn’t. Writing the following letter made me incredibly sad. I am sure in the months that follow, Birdy will pop up somewhere. He might not figure it out yet, but he will: I’m not the kind of woman that will be easily replaced. He will send me some stupid text, “whatcha doing?,” as if none of this ever happened. This time, I will ignore it. I will not continually act the part of the fool. I’ve done it before, and I always end up right back where I started. I have begun dating again. I am putting myself out there. I met someone I really quite like. I won’t talk about him yet. I want to see if he is going to stick around first. I am cautiously optimistic though.
So here is the letter I wrote to Birdy. I doubt he will ever see it. He knows of my blog, but I don’t think I was ever important enough to him for him to ever read it. Instead I share it with you.
It was all in my imagination, but I thought when you looked at me you could stare in my heart and see the ME that nobody else could. That’s just how I am, silly with overly romantic ideas. I thought you were smart, good, handsome, and I admired and respected you. I had convinced myself that you were my “one.”
The truth is I could never relax enough around you to feel safe. I was trying too hard. I just wanted to make you happy with me and care for me, and so I walked on eggshells. I wanted to be perfect for you, but I was far from perfect. You always let me know. I was a bad driver, I dressed bad, I was selfish and didn’t “contribute” (I still don’t know if you were referring to money or something else – I was too ashamed to ask), and there were also some occasions where I was too lazy to brush my teeth. You broke up with me for three months for that one. I let my heart break repeatedly so I could keep you close. But we were never actually close, were we? You wouldn’t let me in.
I know you didn’t respect me. I could tell by the way you treated me, not answering my texts and always leaving me hanging. Making me feel like I wasn’t even worthy enough to let me know you had broken up with me. That was pretty heartless. Even you have to admit it. You talk to homeless men who stop you on the street. I’ve seen you do it many times. I was a woman who shared your bed and you wouldn’t allow me the same dignity as an unwashed stranger. What makes me so low in your eyes that you felt it was okay to treat me like that? You just completely turned your back on me like I never existed.
I am a human being. I have feelings. In fact I’d say I feel things way more deeply than I should. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve cried for you because at times you made me feel so unwanted. Pathetic? Yes. But I don’t care. You should know these things. You should know it so that if you ever do fall in love, you will know it’s not okay to treat someone you care for like that. It’s not ok to tease starving people with breadcrumbs of affection, even if they are weak and maybe a little stupid. That’s just cruel. It’s like tearing the wings off a butterfly.
It takes a lot to make a heart like mine go cold towards someone I love. I can take a lot of shit. But shit isn’t what I want. I want someone who is capable of seeing what I have to offer as a gift, not something to run from like a coward.
Go. Run away. I release you.
Did you ever write a letter to someone just for the sake of writing it? Did it help? I found this painful, and probably wouldn’t do it again. It made me cry and gave me a headache. It was more like opening a wound than letting it heal. This is probably the last post I shall ever write about Birdy (unless I hear from him, then I’m sure I’ll mention it). I just don’t want to give him any more space. Not on my blog, not in my mind, and not in my heart.