I spent some of this year building up a steely resolve, telling myself that despite your attempts to slip back into my life like a shadow, I wouldn’t break.
I have known for a long time that I don’t want to rekindle any of the bitter flames which formed the basis of ‘us’, but knowing you as I did means that I know you better than you think. It means that I know that the attempts to come back into my day to day life mean more than just a platonic curiosity about how I am. It means that I know that you’re probably in a bad place.
I know you won’t see this. You were never really interested in my life, and so I never told you about this blog. Writing that now makes me realise even more how you didn’t know me at all. You had an idea of me in your head and never delved any further than that.
I’m ok, and I have been for quite a long time now. I’m optimistic about the future and what it holds. I’m in a great place and meeting new people and learning so much every day.
Above all else, I’m free.
I’m taking my own advice, advice I have given to quite a few people over the last few years; I’m doing as much as I can to surround myself only with positivity and the people who I love, the kinds of people who remind me that I am worth so much more than you led me to believe I was after you broke me down time and time again.
But what you do have to know is that every time your name appears on my screen, sending me a message or a photo of something you think I’d find funny, just as you would have done back in the brief period when we thought we might still have a future, it does bring you back into my thoughts, but not in the way you possibly hope it will.
It’s a reminder that you were never fully aware of how cruel you were to me, and that you must underestimate my sense of self-respect if you think I would willingly subject myself to your negativity and sadistic nature again. It reminds me of how short your memory is, and how my offers to help you through your own darkness were rebuffed. It’s a reminder that you weren’t ready to accept that help, and that you have to heal yourself before you can let another woman into your life again, and treat her as well as she deserves to be.
I really hope you do.
Despite everything, I want you to be happy. I want you to fall in love and have all the things of which you spoke so often. But most of all I want you to make peace with yourself, and the starting point should be letting me go. You need to, both for your sake and mine.
The difficult thing is that I know I can’t say this to you. All you would do is try to convince me otherwise, and after me repeating myself that it just wouldn’t work, that we’re not right for each other, that we want different things, you would insult me again and again. It would be my fault, not yours or both of ours. That was always the pattern, and that’s why I never replied to you.
And that’s exactly what happened when I grew so tired of your messages that last week I finally cracked. It was a brief conversation, but the same old pattern. You refused to understand where I was coming from, and so I refused to let you contact me again. I never wanted to have to block you. I didn’t want it to get to that point. But for the sake of my future and to eliminate the element of surprise which always accompanied your messages, I had no choice anymore.
The water is very much under the bridge, but the banks have burst. There is no return for me, and although I know you’re hurting, you need to find a way to move on for your own sake and for the sake of your future.
You lost me a very long time ago. You need to find a way to move on and to accept that I already have.