Dear you,

I’m writing this for me not for you. To get this feeling and frustration out. It’s been years, years since we parted ways and I can’t take the facade you put on. Easy for you right? Tell everyone I was a liar, didn’t do anything to help you, or our life. And guess what you are right I was a liar, to myself. I told myself ten too many times that I was happy, I told myself if I try and wish hard enough I can make myself be happy with you. But no matter what I tried to make myself believe I was not happy. I spent months and years trying to impress you, clean, cook, do things for you. You Spent months and years not noticing that I was dying inside, I was losing myself piece by piece. What you did notice is when I had enough, when I completely let go, I let me go, I let you go. You noticed when I stopped cooking and cleaning, you noticed when I stopped revolving my life around you, and my forced envision of “us.” You called me names, yelled at me, made me feel low, you told me I fucked go in the head. You told me to just decide to be happy when I told you I was depressed. You made me feel like it was all on me, like I was nothing, and for awhile I did. I hated myself, I ran from my life, our life. I drowned myself in activities, tried to buy myself anything and everything that maybe just maybe would make me feel happy. And guess what it all failed, I felt like a failure. But one day, the one day I finally flipped a switch for me, in my mind and decided I was never going to feel this way again. I was going to stand up for me and fix myself. The day I told you I was done. The day you try to take that from me with your twisted half truths, your “that’s why I left hers.” That day is mine, it’s not yours it is mine. You, you are too caught up in your appearances, your lack of self confidence and your desire to follow the leader to feel relevant. You feel like you need this day to justify yourself to others. You used to tell me I cared to much what people think, but you my friend. That is you.