“You have the worst luck and the worst life”

“You have the worst luck and the worst life”

“You have the worst luck and the worst life”

LTME-postDear James,

It’s difficult moving on from emotional abuse. It’s worse knowing I invested time and energy into someone who prioritised themselves. You knew I had depression, like you, and you knew I’d been through a lot. I do believe there was a part of you that truly liked me, and I still believe there’s a part of you that’s truly decent. Reflecting upon the time I spent dating you, I feel disheartened that I didn’t leave sooner. You were the first person who didn’t use me for my body. You didn’t have your fun and leave, and I know there was a part of you that genuinely cared.

The hardest part is knowing I should’ve left. I relished the times you were kind. But I let that cloud my perception of you and it covered the emotional abuse that was dominating our time together. You refused to let me know how you felt. You never arranged to meet. I’d get drunk texts and confessions that you liked me, and I knew that after eight dates without kissing you didn’t want me for sex. But you were emotionally abusive. You watched as I was grabbed by two drunk men in the street, letting me push them away myself and telling me I was attracting trouble.

When I tried to talk about our status you’d switch off and ignore me, occasionally feeding me enough to lead me on. You pigeonholed me with other girls you’d dated. The first time we were intimate you compared me to a ‘weird maths girl’ you’d slept with, and reminded me of the first time you saw me – that I looked just like her. You vented to me about your ex without any consideration of my feelings. You blamed me for the way other men had treated me, and you blamed me for your actions too. You ignored me and stood me up continually, and I kept ignoring the reality: that I should get away from you. I sympathised with your depression and your family troubles. I wanted to be there for you when you were emotionally defunct, and I kept trying in the hope that I could support you.

You refused to apologise for anything you did. You admitted to treating me poorly, but never tried to rectify yourself. I took time away from you to think. I never had anyone there for me when I was kidnapped, when I was assaulted. I know what it’s like to put on a brave front and secretly long for someone to be there. As much as it hurt me, I wanted to be there for you. I listened to you. I even confided in you about the man who tried to rape me. You called it ‘nice’. You assumed that your comparative treatment of me as ‘human’ was enough to justify everything else you did. You manipulated me into thinking your emotional swings were my fault. You promised to comfort me but you never did. And you told me you pitied me when I comforted you.

You told me your friends think you’re a psychopath, and you admitted it’s true. I didn’t want to agree. You discredited every time I was hurt. You promised to redeem yourself each time. You never did. You never appreciated the time I dedicated to you, the times I’d take you out to places you’d like, or the times I’d tell you I cared and believed in you. You couldn’t listen when I voiced my concerns or my needs. You were too caught up in yourself and your own problems. You were too self-obsessed to even tell me the truth: that you didn’t care and you didn’t want to see me. You let me believe you cared instead of confronting me. And when I ended it, you didn’t respond. I even came to see you because I wanted to hear your needs. You couldn’t even look at me.

When you left for the last time you told me I have the worst life. You told me I have the worst life and the worst luck in the world. After suffering emotional, physical, and sexual abuse – from men, from family, from many people I’ve met, I felt broken. I realised I’d spent five months, at least, trying to be there for someone who would never do the same for me. I knew it the whole time, but I tried to put myself in your shoes. You were ‘having a hard time’ and you knew I would be there in any way I could. It’s been literally a year since we met and I’m slowly recovering. I do not have the worst life. Or the worst luck. I am not someone to be pitied or sympathised with. I have friends, family, and loved ones who care about me. I have purpose and happiness in my life. I’ve endured and persevered, always coming out stronger than before. I’m graduating from one of the best universities in the world with a First Class Honours – I have so much to live for and a lot to be happy a!

I’ve realised your words directed at me say more about you. I’m sorry you felt empty and depressed. I know it was difficult for you to emotionally connect, and I know you’re not the ‘classically handsome’ and confident man you make yourself out to be. I want you to know that you’re important, and loved. And that you have the potential to be a great person. You don’t have to be strong all the time, and you don’t have to put down others to feel higher. I really hope you are well and that you can treat others with kindness. I wish you the best in your life and I hope you can feel fulfilled.


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