One of the worst things about this is that I feel like Mirabelle in Shopgirl, where everything I thought I knew about you is eclipsed by your dishonesty and the fact that whatever we had, it was never anything more than an illusion. I made the mistake of shaping my life and potential future into a certain mold that depended upon taking you at your word, when what I should have been doing was taking your actions at face value. Meanwhile, you’ve hurt me more than I’ve ever been hurt in my life — and that could be because I’m sober, and things hurt more, but I think it’s also because it was the first time I had faith enough to let go, to fully give myself to someone, to put aside my fears of commitment and entrapment and a million other things. And you? You violated every one of those things so completely that I feel winded and emotionally paralyzed any time I dare to contemplate it.
This isn’t meant to excoriate you; I’m trying to put into words (for you? for me?) what this sadness and emptiness feels like, and possibly give you a better explanation of why I can’t be friends with you than I was able to offer this evening. Maybe one day I’ll have to apologize for this lack of restraint of pen and tongue. Maybe a better or kinder or less painful version will work its way into my writing one day. But tonight? Tonight I feel as though if I don’t get “my say” in, then the moment will pass and it will seem more like hanging on to the pain than it does tonight, when it all still feels too much like a bad dream.