Letters from a Fractured Heart

Do you know that feelling? Like your soul is about to rupture from all the things you cannot tell someone. All the things they can't know, or that you won't tell them?
I do. Sometimes it gets so bad that my mind feels crammed with so many emotions and unspoken words, I can't form a coherent thought around them.
So I write them down. And it works.
These are my unsent letters. My unspoken words.

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1. Mike

Mike,

 

I won't start this letter with any kind of affection. That feeling is long gone, and faking it only adds to the idea that what you did was okay. Honestly, I'm not even sure why I'm writing this. I have nothing to say to you, and still I feel the need to say it.

I survived. I'm still alive. I'm fine without you. Hell, I'm great without you, better than I ever was with you. I can smile without explaining myself, I can make a decision without apologizing in advance. I'm allowed an opinion now. A voice.

I know you regret it. All of it. The yelling, the shoving, the smashing glasses and putting your hands around me throat. I know you regret it, but not for the rigth reasons. Because however much you wish things would have gone differently, that you could have controlled yourself, you are not sorry. You simply don't have it in you to be sorry or feel sorry for anyone other than yourself.

You regret it because I left. Because you couldn't get me back. You regret it because you lost.

But not because what you did was wrong. Not the demeaning words, or the tantrums or the violence, none of it was wrong in your eyes.

And because of that, I don't know whether to hate you or feel sorry for you. The bitterness I feel speak for hatred. The bitterness that you got out in one piece, you got to move on, while I have to live with this fear for the rest of my life. There is a certain bitter taste in my mouth whenever I think about you, because of this very thing.

But I also feel sorry for you. I am the only one who ever really loved you in a way that wasn't destructive. I am the only one who wasn't your drunken, violent mother, or your over-worked indifferent father. And when I left you lost that last part of humanity that might have been left in you. Maybe I left because I couldn't find it anymore, that humanity. Maybe I left because I couldn't find me in myself anymore.

Either way, I'm glad I did.

See you never.

 

And thank God for that.

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