dreamland

thirty-three

I think that this is where this letter ends.
I want to say that this is all I have to say but there were multiple times where I would say these same words; say that this is where it ends and then go back and scratch that out because I still had more to say.
But I think that like everything; the seasons, the days, our favorite chocolates, our best friendships—this has an ending.

My therapist says that I have a gift in remembering all that I wrote as if it was so recent and fresh like paint on a white sheet placed on an easel.
I don't know about that.
I don't think of it so much as a gift.
Not when all that I remember lately, are things I want to forget.

I've said it so many times, I want to forget you. But I'm not supposed to, I shouldn't, she says.

I don't even know what to say about how I feel about you anymore.
I went from loving you, so much, that it suffused my body immensely I thought I would explode.
Then to hating you and resenting you so deeply that I wanted to scream so that you would hear me all the way to where you'd gone.
After that, I was numb of all thoughts and feelings and unaware desires and so many questions upon questions.
And up until recently, all I can recall is fear and disbelief and realization.
Now?
Now all that I have left is emptiness, gray and cold and filled with nothing.

What I know for certain, is that you did not love me.

Maybe at first you did, that I can't prove or deny.
But afterwards, something occurred within your brain, it turned me into something else to you.

I became something like oxygen or meth for a junkie to you.
You became obsessed with me.

That is why you did what you did.

That is why sometimes what you would say and do would feel so intense that I just had to draw back and think.
That, that wasn't your fault.

What happened to her, that is.
It is.
It is.

I have to hand this letter to you personally, as part of the whole closure thing.
At first I didn't want to, I dreaded it, i was terrified of it.
I used to have so many nightmares of it.
In all of them you were hurting me.
It was just like reality.
You were always hurting me.
You were always lying and cheating and stealing my privacy and safety.
Now, well, I don't know. I guess I will have to see when I hand this to you.
If my hands shake and I can't look you in the eyes then I guess you will know that I am still afraid of you.
If not, well to be honest, the scenario where I am not afraid has not come to my mind yet.

I sincerely do hope you get better because better is what you are not right now.
There is something that doesn't work as it should in your mind, I know they've told you that.
You still believe that what you did was right because you thought it would lead to me. You're wrong.
You're wrong.
You're wrong.

I want you to realize that.
Can you do that for me?
And after you've done that, forget about me. Please.