To My Confidant

Friday, January 23rd, 2015

Dear T,

Let me go on a short rant and when you write back, you do the same. I want to know about school and your art and how you're doing, okay?

I'm so mad at him, but I don't know how to write anger, let alone feel it. When I get angry my vision blurs and I cry, uncontrollably, no matter where I am. Last night I was walking in Midtown as the suits made their way to Grand Central; my hair was unbrushed, my body was unshowered, my eyes were red and my face was wet with tears. I looked like such a mess, one second latching onto my mother's arm and the next pushing her away - so bratty.

Fuck him! Fuck him. His six-pack is fat.

He told me everything we had means nothing now. He said much more, but on his behalf I won't go into detail. He hates me, at least says he does, which I'm fine with - I care about him and want to let him process this however he needs. But part of me can't believe I spent eighteen months with someone who now, when it's all said and done, can't even value the good/great/perfect moments we shared. I'm beginning to question my judge of character, my level of maturity, my ability to see and be seen. I've already done this. I'm repeating old mistakes and relearning old lessons that I don't need to relearn. I'm wasting time that I don't have - I need to be doing something with myself other than writing these stupid letters about him. It's just not supposed to be this way. I'm the one feeling all the pain and I'm the one reassessing myself, but I broke up with him! To some extent, did I end things because I wanted him to finally feel? 

Tell me about you. Thanks for listening… as usual. Miss you very much and hope you're staying warm in Chitown.

XOXO Love/Hugs/Emoji OXOX,


P.S. This is kind of how I feel, how I want to feel, and also it just makes me feel better.