A note I found on my phone from before I stopped getting high with you and we finally broke up.

It’s all a lie.

All of it.

It’s not love, it’s settling. It’s fear of leaving. It’s cowardice. It’s hurting myself for not wanting to hurt you, because when I tried you were so distraught and violently ill that I stayed and hurt myself more. Whether you were aware of how manipulative that was or not, that’s how you got me to stay. That’s how you always got me to stay.

It’s not living my own truth, which is live music, museums, art galleries, red wine, culture, laughter. Moving somewhere other than Nottingham.

It’s cheating myself out of a life of the kind of happiness that I want. That you can’t give me. Because you have no idea what real affection is and I am SO STARVED of being touched and held with affection.

It’s staring at the back of your head while you play endless fucking video games and then listen dumbfounded while you have the fucking audacity to say that I don’t make time for you. Because I’m trying to do a Masters Degree.

It’s realising that I’m the only one who ever talks in terms of ‘us’ and ‘we’.

It’s realising that you never apologise when you’re wrong. But worse, I apologise whether I’m wrong or not. It’s being in a relationship where I feel like I have no backbone, and yet in every other area of my life, I’m fully capable of voicing my own opinions.

It’s feeling like I’m unintelligent next to you, and believing it over years. This self doubt has spread like a fungus and I don’t know what to believe about myself anymore. Questioning my sanity, my memory, my intelligence, keeping me confused so I’ll stay put.

It’s watching you take a week off work without thinking to tell me about it in advance so we could try to arrange anything for the two of us. It’s STILL having to cook for you when I GOT HOME FROM WORK even though you’d been sat there in your pants all day doing absolutely nothing but avoiding reality by getting high and playing more games, and complaining that you never do anything, and that you’re wasting the ‘prime of your life’.

It’s being ignorant to the fact that it’s because all you do is get high and play video games.

Or get high and watch films.

Or get high and invite people over to watch the same shit YouTube videos and series’ until they’re so fucking bored of the same routine that they stop coming round and you’re so fucking high that you can’t even see the pattern and you’re so confused as to why any of this is happening.

Or just getting high.

Or getting high and going to my Grandad’s 70th birthday party and spending the day not talking to anyone and then getting mad at me when I take too long saying goodbye to my family that I never get chance to see, and then we miss the train by 40 seconds even though my dad ran red lights because you were getting so pissed off at the possibility of missing the goddamn train. AND THEN when I tried to make light of the fact that we only had to wait for an hour by taking you to an old pub that I went to in my childhood and try and have fun with it, you sat there in silence like a petulant child while I did my best to fake smile and be fake happy until I sobbed in the toilets. But then you later told me that you were only so mad because you’d already arranged to meet your dealer and we’d missed that. As if that made it all fucking understandable.

We only along when we’re both high. I don’t want to be high all the time anymore.

We have nothing to talk about because we are nothing.

I avoid talking to you because you are so dismissive of whatever I have to say and I don’t think you even realise you’re doing it. Which is why I get so ‘defensive’. I don’t want to hear you speak because that’s all you ever do. You speak over me ALL the time. We haven’t had a decent conversation in YEARS.

You are so negative and draining, though I tell you you aren’t because I don’t want to hurt you. But you are. And it hurts me. Even when you recover from this latest bout of depression and anxiety I will still resent you for making me live through the years that you did nothing to help yourself. I understand that I don’t leave because I don’t want to hurt you but it’s killing me and I know it’s hurting you too. Maybe that’s why you’re so depressed. You’ve already insinuated that it’s my fault enough times to make me really believe it.

Sometimes I think that we reflect in each other all of the bad traits that we don’t like about ourselves. You used to get angry with (housemate) for always complaining and never doing anything other than playing video games. And yet you do the same. Maybe you complained that he was a loser because it made you feel like you weren’t quite that much of a loser. That’s what we all do. I do that with you. Complain about you so I don’t feel as bad about the things I hate about myself, and it has to stop.

Please, Amy. This is never getting any better. You’re killing yourself over this manchild that hasn’t given you any of what you need for years. Who can’t, because he doesn’t know how. But it’s not just him, you don’t know how to ask. Please focus on learning how to vocalise the things that you want. Stop putting everyone else’s needs before your own because you’re scared that if you start putting it into words, you’ll both realise that he’s not the person to give any of it to you. You are. Start doing it. Start sticking up for yourself. Start standing your ground. You deserve to have a voice. You deserve to find someone who will sit with you and play with your hair and listen to what you have to say. You deserve a guy that will want to take you to the places you’re interested in, even if he’s not, because he wants to see your face light up even if he’s bored. You deserve a guy that won’t ignore you all night and then be confused why you don’t want to have sex with him. You deserve a guy that will caress you and kiss you.

Seriously. Go find yourself, then go find that guy. Hope he’s a vegan.


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