My dear beloved,
First things first, I’m never going to send this to you. This is for my personal use only, to get out all the feelings of hurt and pain that have been weighing me down ever since you left. I don’t hate you. I could never hate anyone. I don’t work that way. I still love you as much as I always did, even though you stopped loving me a long time ago. Although I still don’t see it and probably never will, I know you had your own reasons why you felt the need to do what you did—to suddenly stop shining. I can safely say, though: I’ve never felt this much pain in my life.
You hurt as hard as you love, I guess. What you did was so full of unnecessary hate and anger that it is inexcusable. At that point, it was the mark of a hateful and spiteful foe and not the lamp I thought I knew. The lamp I knew was bright, shiny, kind and loving.
However, you never communicated with me; you expected me to read your mind and guess what I was doing wrong. Relationships are a two-way street. You cannot expect me to be solely responsible for this—you needed to communicate with me and tell me when you were planning on blowing your bulb. This, unfortunately, you never did. In all my time of being with you I was never truly angry with you once. I told you this many times; I always wanted to be with you, but had no idea you needed your space sometimes, too. Again, you never told me.
I had no problem with the thought that I would be with you forever; in fact, I wanted that. I wanted your face to be the one I woke up to and the last one I saw in the day. If the words existed to describe the love I had for you, I would have happily told you day after day after day for the rest of my life. I guess those words didn’t exist, or I didn’t find them in time. Now that you’re gone, my mind is constantly weighed down with the thoughts of what I could have said to make everything better and to make you stay. There are so many things I wanted to do with you, experiences I wanted to share, questions I wanted to ask. I guess the answers don’t even matter now. I just don’t understand.
How could someone say they loved me and then 15 minutes later end a two-year relationship over a blown-out bulb? A bulb? That’s all I was worth to you? You said that now that I knew what to improve upon, we’d be able to move on and grow. Do you not even have the decency to refrain from lying to my face?
Even though you stopped loving me, that didn’t mean I ever stopped loving you. Wasn’t that worth anything? Even the tiniest shred of respect? I suppose not, according to you. In your eyes, I wasn’t deserving of kindness at that point; I was a horrible person and a manipulative and emotionally abusive moth monster, and apparently it was fine to treat me as an object that can just be thrown away at will. I’ll never forget the time we had together, but enough is enough. I’m not going to be pushed around anymore, always held at arm’s length away from the beautiful light I thought was somewhere deep inside you.