A letter to my love

Dear Evan,

 

It’s been over a year since we broke up, and over 5 months since we’ve seen each other. I would like to start by saying that I’m sorry. I pushed you too soon, and we both paid the price. Our relationship wasn’t love at first sight, rather, the opposite. One day I finally woke up and saw you staring down at me, and I just knew. Sometimes I feel like the world is just too much and, regrettably, I dragged you into my world of chaos.

 Sometimes I think that we could have worked. You were and still are the only person I can imagine myself with. Through all these months, through all of my relationships, you’ve always been on my mind. If we had waited, we could be together today. I was talking to some people recently and they confirmed this. I remember we used to fight all the time and I would yell at you and you would smile. I miss us. I can say with absolute certainty that I would be fine with us being friends again. But I know that’s selfish. I think that people portray relationships in a certain way, and I tried to mold us to fit society's expectations, and it broke us. I hurt you because I loved you. I think deep down I knew we would never have worked. If I had come out when we were dating you would have dumped me.

 I broke up with you over text because I was scared and selfish and insolent and hurt and in pain.  That was cruel. I regret us ever dating, but not for the reasons you might think. I don’t even know how to explain it. Sometimes I stare up at the stars before I go to bed and I just cry.

Shortly after we broke up I began cutting. And I know you’re never supposed to say its the other person’s fault, but you fucked up.You added on to the mental illness and the hurt and the pain and the parental absence. You were cruel and I forgive you. I miss you so, so much. So much that it hurts. Since we broke up a day hasn’t gone by that I don’t think of you.  You’re fucking beautiful. Down to your soul.

If I ever sent this you would probably be scared, and honestly, I’d be scared too.

I’m writing this for me, not for you

Fuck you

I love you

      

                                            Love,

                                                 someone who’s broken

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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