A month has passed since we split and everyday is still torture.  Every night I still wake up from the re-occurring nightmares of you attacking me.  Then I have to last through each day, having had less sleep than the one before, trying not to snap at my parents for telling me I look tired.  

I don’t cry.  You would probably expect me to cry but I can’t.  I can’t make the tears come out no matter how much I want them to.  Then I hate myself for it.  it would be so much easier to cry and scream and shout but I can’t.  

I would have done anything for you.  I did do anything for you.  I left medical school for you.  I gave up my friends for you.  And for what?  Two years of a semi-ok relationship?  At the time I tried to believe the relationship was the best thing in the world because what else could I do?  I had thrown away the career I had been dreaming of since I was 10 and it wasn’t even worth it.  You didn’t put any effort into our relationship and you hated when I was happy.  

I have always been an overly bubbly person who gets excited about anything.  I remember you saying towards the start of our relationship it was what attracted you to me especially when your family life was less than ideal.  But then you couldn’t stand me being happier than you.  Anytime I would have fun whether it was with friends or when I was in Australia you had to make some horrific comment to make me feel guilty.  You continuously did this until I turned into the person I am now.  The person afraid to show emotion, even joy to anyone.  The person who no longer knows how to make myself happy.  

Even on my birthday you couldn’t stand me being happy.  Yes I know we had an exam on it.  Yes I know you felt like you didn’t do well in it but this did not give you the excuse to leave me waiting in my room for hours while you went and talked to her for hours.  You even refused to come to dinner with me when I asked.  

Then last year you did the same.  I know you were sick and not feeling the best but I was too.  Instead of doing something lovely together I waited on you hand and foot until you felt better.  You didn’t even say thank you.  You never said thank you.  You would just say nasty comments.  You ran my confidence into the ground.  Why couldn’t you, even just once, have told me I looked beautiful?  Even on the night of the ball, when I felt so beautiful your only remark was that you didn’t like the colour of my dress.  The same dress I had worn the year before.  The same dress I had been showing you for months and asking if you liked it or if I should wear something else.  

Then there was that night.  The night before good Friday.  The night when you hit me.  Then when you held me up against the wall by my throat and threatened me.  Your drunken self oblivious to the real fear in my eyes as you said how much you wanted to hurt me.  You blame me for calling the cops but I was terrified.  You keep a knife on your bedside table remember.  And your words were ringing in my ears ‘look how scared you are.  I enjoy it.  I am a psychopath.’  

I tried to tell myself that you aren’t a violent person.  That it was a one off.  But it wasn’t.  It was the first time you deliberately struck me but it was a long time coming.  One year beforehand when you were once again drinking I tried to give you a hug from behind and you pushed me backwards towards the ground, my head hitting the table and knocking me out.  I never thought anything about it at the time.  You were drunk, I was drunk, you had pushed me it was just an accident.  But even then you never said sorry.  You just yelled at me the next day for being tipsy enough that I couldn’t keep my balance.  That should have been the first warning.  What about all the times you grabbed my arm and twisted until I begged, usually crying through the pain, for you to let go.  

And that’s just the physical pain you put me through.  Your psychological manipulation could have a thesis written on it.  

Yet after all of this I just wanted to stay friends.  I didn’t want to best buddies but I wanted to stay friends.  And you were nasty.  You made me feel like everything was my fault and once again you didn’t apologise.  You haven’t said sorry for anything.  Instead you just spread rumours about me and agreed to meet me once to tell me you were already interested in someone else.  A month hadn’t even passed.  I guess you are just like your father.  Your father who you seemed to think of as some hero even though he had gone through 3 wives and god knows how many other women.  He cheated on your mother, leaving her to look after you by herself, yet you couldn’t speak more favourably on him and talked with disgust about her.  You, like your father and like your flatmates have no respect for women.  

I should be glad that I have escaped from you.  But I’m not.  I can’t even imagine time being enough to lift this dark numbness.  

I would say I wish you well but I don’t.  How could I when you ruined my life?  If only you were suffering too, if only you missed me like I missed you, it would be easier to forgive you.  But you don’t so I can’t.

Good bye Jared.

I just hope you never manage to get with another girl again.  For her sake not yours.