Sometimes I wonder if all of those beautiful words were lies…. those melodic promises were nothing more than some sick way of luring me into a fairytale that never was meant to come true – like Sirens luring sailors to their doom. Was I nothing more than a brief amusement, a way to dull your own pain, a way to break the monotony of your life? It feels that way.

I’m left feeling hollow, and starved – my insides clenching from the deprivation. I both crave your attention and detest my weakness at this. My heart pulses and stutters constantly when I think of you… of us. My mind wanders in an aimless path of agony wondering why I wasn’t enough again. Why was I not enough… again? It seems to be a common theme. Never enough. I’m never the choice. But somehow I’m always told that I’m great… I deserve the best. What does this mean? This oxymoron of “You’re not enough, but more than enough.” Nothing more than a polite way of kissing someone off – a nice way to try and soften the blow of rejection.

I wonder where all of those proclamations went. Where did all of those promises go? It hasn’t been very long… what happened?

You talked to me about marriage, and children, and moving, and traveling. We talked of the future… you seemed so sure and steadfast in your beliefs, constantly making me feel so guilty for not free-falling into the same fantasies with you. For not having the same surety in my own mind as to our future. But I eventually let my guard down… started to plan and fantasize with you. Allowed myself the freedom of trusting you and leaning on your confidence when my own seemed lacking.

And now I’m terrified on top of crushed. Hopeless. Weakened. Numb. Bewildered. Broken.

Like an addict going through withdrawals I find myself jolting awake at night drenched in sweat… or not sleeping at all. I can’t focus or eat. I’m nauseated at the thought that I may have changed my life so drastically for someone who so obviously wasn’t as invested in our relationship as I. I hunger for oblivion, and rage at my lack of control. I’m powerless to repair my own wounded heart. I can’t seem to stop the film-like projections of all of those future possibilities that still echo in my thoughts. I’m floating in this nebulous void of indecision, lack of direction, lack of motivation to do anything more than try to staunch this flood of emotions.

I don’t want to look at you. Don’t want to see anything that reminds me of my brief moments of incandescent happiness… of my stupidity… of what sifted through my fingers like sand without me even knowing. That thing that was really never within my grasp or control to begin with.

I think of your young boys… your comfort. Your haven of unconditional love. I have nothing. I’m stuck in this black hole of humiliation and despair. Of people telling me “I told you so” and giving me pitying looks. I want to hate you, but I can’t. I want to be angry, but I can’t.

I can’t scrape the bitter taste of your disingenuous parting from my mind. “I’ll always love you”.

I wanted to curse you. But I didn’t. I wanted to tell you to shove that empty sentence where the sun doesn’t shine… to lash out and hurt you the way you hurt me. I can’t though. I can’t hurt you. Couldn’t bring myself to do such a thing. I remember you telling me in the beginning that you aren’t a nice person… and now I think that you may be right. That perhaps, a very small, decent part of you was actually trying to warn me from the very beginning. That maybe I should have heeded your own words.

But I didn’t. I fell head over heels in love with someone who really never considered me worth fighting for. Someone ultimately weak and selfish. I feel like you’ve stolen something vital from my being… but no… you can’t steal what’s been freely given, even if under false pretenses.

I don’t for a second believe that you are just torn about leaving your boys. I’m sure that’s part of it…. but I think that you just don’t feel up for the challenges that you see ahead. Not ready to leave the comfort of routine, or a house full of familiar things. Not ready to leave your wife, despite your discontent in the relationship. Not ready to brave being alone, or to possibly live below the means to which you have become accustomed. Not ready to make difficult choices or face the consequences of your actions head on. And obviously, I’m not enough of an incentive or reward for your trouble. How easily you forget that not that long ago, you had hoped so very much that I was pregnant. What a joke, right? What on earth was I thinking? I suppose I thought that someone who was so determined to have a family with me wouldn’t so easily toss me aside. But that’s not the way that the world works. Fairness and logic need not apply.

And now… now I’m stuck here sobbing, my shoulders jerking with the spasms from holding in the sound. Then calming into a painful silence devoid of warmth, with no light at the end of this miserable tunnel. Everyone telling me that time heals all wounds, that I have so much to look forward to – every word is like a dagger, making me want to escape into seclusion away from all of the well-meaning sentiments. This is horrible. This feels horrible.

You’re a liar. Despicable… what kind of person does what you did? You knew what I came from… knew what I had struggled with for years. Years of wondering what’s wrong with me. Years of feeling unwanted. Years of emotional scars from a person that claimed to love me, but who’s actions never met his words. And what did you do? You came in with promises, claiming to be different… then did the same thing, but worse. You made yourself out to be this avenging hero of maturity, honor, and strength. You built up my trust, gave me a taste of what true happiness and contentment could be… then demolished it.

You lied. Repeatedly. You offered forever. You told me you loved me. You lied so prettily to my face. The divorce lawyers? The separation therapist? Nice touches.

How do I forgive that? Move past that? And now I question every word you ever said to me. Was it all just one big lie? What else did you lie about… what other things did you make up just to reel me in?

I wish I could remove any traces of me that I ever gave you…. any and all intimate photos and conversations that I ever sent you. To remove the evidence of my humiliation… of my time where I thought I was your love, your partner, but was actually little more than a mistress. I feel cheap and betrayed. No wonder your wife was so keen to invade your privacy… she was naturally curious what type of person I was – what type of person was willing to stand around waiting for scraps. How pathetic I must have seemed to her. I can’t even look at myself in the mirror.

I wish I never knew your smell, your touch, your taste. I wish we never experienced all of the things we did together, or talked about and listed all of what we planned… all of those things that I can never do or experience without thinking of you now. You ruined it all. You ruined the name I wanted to give a daughter. You ruined the hotel I had dreamed of going to one day. You ruined my favorite movie. You ruined my favorite smell… forever. You cast them into darkness, never to elicit the same longing, joy, happiness or comfort again. You were thorough, too. What do you love? Tell me. Share your heart and soul with me. Make sure that there isn’t a space of you, your thoughts, your dreams that I haven’t invaded.

Then you closed your fist around them, and snuffed them out.

I’m stupid… so stupid. I keep fantasizing that you’ll take it all back… tell me I’m worth it. But I know that won’t happen. I know it just as I know that you don’t really love me. In fact, every time I picture it, I think of how naive I am. This isn’t some fairytale. This is life, and you’ve already made your choice.

I hate that I’m crying. Hate that I’m incapacitated with grief over your loss. Hate that I’ve given someone so much power over me that cares so little. Sitting here wondering if I’ll ever send this to you… if I even want you to know how deeply you’ve injured me.