October 16, 2016
Elizabeth,
I think about you every day. It was easy for about the first week. I thought that was what I wanted. Our relationship seemed more like a burden to me than a gift, and I selfishly wanted out. You did too, but for reasons I can only guess.
Your parents, for one. Two, you were thinking about breaking up even before I moved, you said. You felt like we were drifting apart. It wasn’t a complete accident. I’d given my heart away a long time ago to someone else. I never had the courage to tell you that because I was afraid it would hurt you beyond belief. But even without telling you I did just that. The funny thing is that only by being apart I was able to deal with what I was going through. And once I was completely ready to be in a relationship, it was already over for us.
There was another reason too why you felt like we were drifting apart. It’s a stupid one. I wasn’t trying in our relationship at all. I thought if I just held on to the belief that things would work out, eventually there would come a day where we could finally have the kind of relationship we both wanted. It must have been incredibly obvious. I felt like any effort I put in prematurely would just be wasted because we were so far away from each other distance-wise. “Just hold out until we can move in together,” I’d tell myself… “Once we can be free and just be ourselves, it’ll all be worth it.” Even after I moved, we could only see each other on a very limited time budget. It was so restrictive that it was a struggle for me to even try to enjoy it.
We did enjoy it. That just happened because we loved each other. And for some reason being with you doesn’t drain me like with other people, it lifts me up. Anyone else I have to put forth effort and afterward I need to recuperate. Being with you excites me and makes me incredibly happy and actually fills me with energy. Maybe that’s why it seemed to take no effort to enjoy ourselves. But there were also moments where the immense pressure on you being with me came through and affected what little time we had together. I don’t wish that on you, and it’s better if we aren’t together for that reason. It was selfish of me to carry on as long as I did, putting you in the middle of your parent’s crossfire of hostilities with me.
I do have my regrets. I should have made an effort to get through to your parents… to show them I’m not a total asshole. Maybe they would have listened, probably not. Either way I should have done more than I did, which was nothing.
I never got to meet your friends. Or see your work at Pryde. I was scared your friends and coworkers would think I was weird and you wouldn’t like me anymore.
And I should have told you I loved you more. Because I did. I was flippant about my affection towards you a lot of the time, and it was disrespectful to you. I’m so, so sorry about that. You were so caring towards me. I don’t know what I did to deserve that kind of devotion and love, and I’m tortured by the fact I let that slip out of my hands.
The one other time in my life I cared about someone so deeply, I gave my love freely and put it on display every chance I got. And I was shot down repeatedly like an unruly dog. That experience filled me with a fear of showing sincere affection. I shouldn’t have let it carry over to us. And I’m not excusing myself in the least. I just want you to know why I acted the way I did. I was just afraid that if you knew how deeply I loved and cared for you, it would drive you away.
It’s much too late, but I want to tell you that I treasured you so much. No one has ever liked me the way you did. That’s why you were so special to me and why I liked you back. All I ever wanted was a friend and a lover who I could share my life with. And I had it for a glorious second. I tried so hard to hold on to the pieces until we were home free… until we could finally just enjoy life without any drama. We were walking a tightrope of parents, jobs, money, school, and distance. Or less cliche… we were walking an egg and spoon race. We dropped the egg. But the egg hasn’t cracked in my mind. It’s sitting right there on the grass, and I want to pick it back up and get to the finish line right in front of us. I have a huge problem letting go.
I’m holding on to you like that egg, but you won’t talk to me. Tell me you hate me. Tell me to fuck off. Tell me to go kill myself. The silence hurts so much more, and I guess if that’s what you’re trying to do then it’s working. God knows I probably deserve it.
Anyway, I’ve been distracting myself with as much as I can, making sure I don’t let my mind wander too far off to thoughts of you. But I do think about you every day now in a sorrowful, longing way. Maybe that’s what my problem is. I keep avoiding the grieving process when I should embrace it.
Love,
Seth