“You have no idea how hard this is to write, or how badly I’m shaking that I can barely form the words, but something awful has happened and I have to leave you…this…everything.
Even looking at that sentence in black and white…I can’t…I don’t know how to tell you in a kinder way and I hate myself for it. I hate that I’m too much of a coward to tell you in person. I hate that I’m so selfish I can’t bear the thought of your devastation added to my own, so I’m leaving you this and running. It feels criminal. It’s despicable.
It’s abhorrent and my soul is screaming at me for hurting you like this, but I’m torn because equally I need to protect myself or I won’t be able to do the things I need to do, and above anything now, I need to focus and I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry….I wish things were different.
I’m so angry, my love (if you will still bear to allow me to call you that, after such betrayal, and I know, I know I don’t deserve to ever even speak your name again for this because…NO! No…I didn’t lead you on. I promise you that! Absolutely promise. Ack, but what is a promise even worth from a cad like me. Ohmigosh, I’m breaking, love, I’m breaking and all I want is for you to hold me and make it better but you can’t and I can’t and this hurts too much). I’m angry. I’m angry. Rage is boiling inside me like molten lava and each wave of anguish is sinking through my bones, red hot and painful. So painful.
I hate that this happened. I hate that I ended up in this position where I have to say goodbye and it wasn’t even my fault. FOR ONCE, my love, it fucking WASN’T ME. It was circumstance or happenstance or whateverthefuck happens when you’ve finally just gotten comfy and began to trust and open your heart to the beauty of relationship and…this is too much…just wait…I’m going to be sick.
Ohhhhhhhhhhh this hurts. I’ve never hurt like this in all my soul. And this thing I can’t tell you yet, because I’m a coward not to say this personally…well I will…I’ll write from the place I’m going to end up. I’ll tell you, but I’m so sorry because it’s over and we can’t ever have this back, even once everything has settled down, if it does.
This has been my life, and I’ve loved it so much and I am in an abyss of despair because I know, I KNOW, I have to leave and have to attend to this shitty, awful thing and I’m so sorry, so sorry. so sorry. Shit I can’t even see, you know how much it takes to make me cry, and at the moment I can’t stop. I can’t stop and I hate this. I HATE THIS.
I wanted to keep you forever.
I wanted to be able to always tell you how amazing you are and that I adore you and that…oh just EVERYTHING.
You’ve made me come alive. You’ve been the most incredible thing which has happened to me, and you’ve breathed life and light where before there was darkness and doubt but now the dark has come back and taken me whole and I will never get out and I’m so sad. I’m so sad.
I can’t bear to ask your forgiveness for this. I know I don’t deserve it and I know that were the roles reversed and you suddenly disappeared the way I am…I could never…I would hurt for ever and I’m so sorry because I don’t want you to hurt for ever because…you know how much I care, how much I cherish and love you and it’s killing me to do this.
There will only ever be darkness from here.
I had no idea I’d ever have to do this. No clue that I would ever have to break you this way, or be broken so cruelly.
This. Is. HELL.
This is why I was so slow to trust and so afraid to love and…fuck, you should have been, too.
I’m so sorry.
I love you.”
The world turns dark around me and I see nothing, hear nothing. Not the letter in my hand, which falls to the floor. Not the howl of rage and hurt and anger which erupts into the room. Not the unimportant things of our former life – trinkets, photographs, cups, crockery, pictures, furniture, which I throw violently against the walls, across the room; away from me as far as I can manage. Not the walls, which buckle and smash through to black, eventually giving way to my determined fists. Not the doors, which finally fall under kick after kick after kick. I want to hurt. I want to break. I want to destroy.
Because I have been destroyed.
The howling continues, wave after wave after wave of pain, pouring from my lungs, cracking my vocal cords, yet I feel nothing. I hear white noise. My blood is turned to bile within me and every part of me is reeling, dizzied, anguished, starved of oxygen and hope.
I am destroyed.
Eventually I collapse, thudding to my knees, the howling turned to keening in the splintered ruins of our life. Gradually my vision returns and the world around me seems tilted on its axis – chaos; unrecognisable – it is not my life. Not any more.
I am destroyed.
And as I survey, through eyes which burn and flood and wish they could erase what just happened, I realise that red has spattered the brokenness too, and as I look down, I see hands covered in blood; lacerated and already swelling black around the broken bones.
I feel nothing.
I am destroyed.