Long rant. I've got to get it out of my system.
Why didn't you let me go?
You held on to me for so long, when it was convenient for you or when you started to feel lonely. You knew I'd be there, waiting for you, hoping that you would see the error in what you were doing. That I loved you more than anyone else and that that should be enough. But I know it never was. And no, it never will be. Thank God I have finally gotten past the denial and am working my way through that.
Now, every time I see something of yours, some proof that you still exist and are doing fine somewhere apart from me, it's like a shot in the gut. The bottom falls out, my breath gets caught deep in my chest and burns. But that feeling doesn't last long at all. Not like it used to. The last time you pushed me away, I myself (but no, not alone) boxed up all of your possessions and removed them from the house. This time there was (and is) very little left to keep you close to me, at the surface of my wounds. I'm systematically deleting you from my life. You number is gone from my cell phone. Your friend profile is now missing from my Netflix community. Next will be Myspace, if I can find the courage to seek out your profile and delete it without seeing a picture of you. Or ANYthing that might betray what you're doing now and who you might be doing it with. I'm detaching you from my life, but those things still hurt. I've got no closure, you see. Just the memory of you saying you loved me and then the silences you left me with when you refused to return my phone calls.
But I am changing, and not just on the outside. I am learning to put very little faith in sweet words and warm memories. Those things only helped me delude myself into hanging on and waiting until you showed me some scrap of affection, a half-remembered token of a warm feeling you held for me. I am learning to keep a shell around myself to prevent being crushed the way you hurt me so many times. Believe me, I'm open to finding someone else. But the first time they try to do something like you did, I will leave. I will remove myself from the situation because it does nothing but waste time for me. Time that could be spent with someone who truly deserves to be with me.
I wish you had let me go years ago. Let me find my own way and deal with the way things ended the best way I knew how. This last time, you begged me to save you. You knew what to say to make me want to help you and you drew me back in. You told me you wanted to marry me and be the father of my children. You knew I waited nearly six years for some kind (any kind!) of sign of permanence. You were cruel to make me wait for you when you knew you would never do any of those things you mentioned. And I know a lot of it was my fault--I should never have taken you back after we broke up that first time. I just couldn't believe that we were never going to be together. Call it the naive optimist in me.
But now... now the ties are severed. You will never again be able to ignore me, neglect me, use me only when it served your purposes or made you feel better. I think at one point in time, you loved me. But you never learned to deal with "what comes next." You were never that confident in our love and never matched my certainty. And now it's too late.
Whatever it was you wanted from me, you'll never get it. I refuse to have you continue the cycle of breaking my heart over and over and over. That's why, if you call (and I have very little faith that you will), you will get my voicemail at best. I will not return your calls. I probably won't even listen to any messages you might leave. Any mail of yours, (that I've still been getting years after you moved out!) I have written "RETURN TO SENDER. ADDRESSEE DOES NOT LIVE HERE" in giant block letters on the front. I threw away that shirt of yours that was in my car. The one you asked me not to throw away. I simply don't care anymore. If you had shown me one iota of kindness about this whole situation instead of telling me you love me one last time before cutting off all contact, then I would be taking care of your things until they could be picked up. But the time for kindness is gone.
I'm freeing myself now. I'm looking back on the good times we had and feeling positive about them, but I know that those do not outweigh the times you neglected me or chose other far more trivial things over me. I'm moving on.
I still want the best for you. In fact, in believing in myself and gathering the strength to move on and past what you've done to me, I think I'm doing what's best for you. I know it's best for me and I suppose, in the end, that is truly what counts. It's a shame it took me so long to finally believe it.