It's January and the coldness consumes me. The cold air encompasses me every morning when I go out to get the mail, anxiously awaiting a letter from you. You told me you didn't like my bad habits. I tried to stop, I tried to quit. I really, really tried...but I am weak, and you deserve better. I know you do, but every morning, as I reach to grab the mail...I still find myself looking for a letter from you. I just wish I could be better, not for me but for you. When these thoughts start to creep in my mind that's when, the cigarette pulls in closer and closer to my mouth and before I know it I have a lighter in my hand, and a cancer stick pressed to my lips and there I am letting you down over and over again.
It's March and I can't even look myself in the mirror anymore. I know the dreary eyed and soulless person bestowed in front of me is not the person I used to be, and hell it makes me sad. Yet, I can't find it in my heart to blame myself for what I've become, but deep down I know I'm responsible. I know I used to be good and I know you weren't even the one who made me good. You were just the one that inspired me to be good. You're the one who decided I wasn't good enough for a gentle and kind person like you. So no, I don't hate myself...I hate you.
It's May and I've decided that I want to be better. I've decided that love scares me and falling in love scares me even more. I got too attached to you, and that was my first mistake. I made you apart of my book of life when in reality, you were only meant to be in a chapter. I know that now. I don't regret falling for you, even if you do, I don't. I still love you, I will always love you. My only regret is letting myself believe it could last.
It's July and I've adopted a puppy. He reminds me of what it's like to be happy again, and hell do I miss being happy. Sometimes when she whimpers in the middle of the night, waking me up by crawling on my bed it makes me smile. She's new to the world and what seems like incorruptible. I try not to think about you, and the ironic thing is, I think I'm addicted to you. To the thought of you, to the longing for you. My bad habit is you.
It's October and my therapist told me it's okay to cry. Didn't she know I already knew that? Didn't she know I struggle not to cry every chance I get? I'm beginning to think therapy is crap and love is bull and everything that's wrong with the world sucks, but that's what it is so you just have to deal accordingly. Honestly, I'm tired. I'm tired of beating myself up over a person who doesn't love me anymore. If I change, I'm going to do it on my terms. That day, I quit therapy.
It's January, and exactly a year after you have left me. I hardly think of you anymore. There are only objects and memories that remind me of you sometimes. For example, I drove passed your parents road on my way to my sisters wedding a couple of weeks ago. The memory of meeting them for the first time made me smile, but it didn't make me miss you. I realized it isn't exactly you I've been missing all this time, it's me that I've missed-or at least the me I used to be. I'm trying really hard to find her again. Which is why, I'm writing this email to you, even if I don't send it. I needed to be put my feelings into words. Maybe someday I'll send it, after I've found myself again. For now, I just wanted to say goodbye. Goodbye for real this time. Goodbye.
