My Dearest,

 

I don't think I know this,

But I am afraid I let my mental illness get the best of us.

I am addicted to the nostalgia linked to the sound of your name.

I contract fear and shame and try to blame myself,

Or you,

Whichever is more convenient.

 

The truth is,

And it's hard for me to say this, but

I don't think I love you anymore.

 

Looking back,

It was all in the moment.

And that moment lasted for 6 months.

Seriously, being with you felt like a weekend spanned out over half a year.

And finally the tears have run dry,

Because I remember you.

I remember you make me cry.

 

I'm sorry you can't face me.

Sometimes I can't face myself,

But above and beyond all else just know,

That in that time I cherished you

And since then I have learned to hold people accountable,

For the words they speak,

The pain they cause,

And what they believe.

 

So in all honesty.

I'll save you the hassell.

It's you.

Not me.