Hey, Z. 

I’m hoping that I can post this publicly and also not have it be something you’ll find. I need to say these things; I need to have these feelings and words breathe somewhere where they’ll be seen, regardless of whether people judge me harshly or find compassion for me. I just need them to exist. 

I can’t be angry at you and not acknowledge my role in it all. I did pretty much all the shitty things a partner can do to someone. And I did them. I chose to do what I did. It’s not that I didn’t know what I was doing. I did. Honestly, the attention from other women felt good. I mean, it doesn’t matter at this point but I wanted to say it. While I chose my actions, I chose to hurt you, I knew what I was doing I didn’t know why. No, I’m not making an excuse. I wish I took the time to learn about myself; to go to therapy much sooner in life instead of at the precipice of 50. 

What you did, on your end wasn’t okay. It was nasty and shitty as well (and illegal), you straight up blackmailed me. That’s wrong. I hope you know that it was wrong. I said it, so there. I know you wouldn’t have done what you did had I not hurt you so profoundly. It doesn’t excuse your actions but it does explain why you did what you did. You felt that was the only power you had to do something to me; to serve me consequences. Honestly, if I weren’t so pissed I’d be impressed. Actually, Z, I AM impressed. Like, I’m not even surprised, you took me out. You turned friends on me; you cost me 10k; I got removed from a community. Like, I got served. And I was so angry about it. But… I deserved it. You know that but I want you to know that I know it, too. Honestly, bravo. Well done (except for the blackmailing, again, fuck you).

If I knew I was going to see you or talk to you again and I knew that would be it, forever, what would I say to you? It’s weird. I’m angry at you still but I also love you, I still miss you. And fuck you, seriously. Fuck. YOU. Phew. Okay! 

I’ve gotten back into an illustration practice and I’ve created some really awesome illustrations—I wish I could show them to you. I can imagine your reaction. The memes, the funny shit, the really good talks I’ve had with my mother, the things I’ve learned about myself in the last year. I wish I could tell you about it all like I used to. I wish I could listen to you dump all your stuff on me. Now that it’s gone; that you’re gone, your absence is incredibly obvious. Like moving to the countryside from the metropolis—where you hear the sounds of the city, cars, people laughing, life, and now there’s silence; like someone turned off the light switch. I feel your absence every day. Some days are easier than others, Z, and other days, like this one, are difficult. 

I also want to tell you that I had shrooms for the first time. Z, it was INCREDIBLE; it was such a beautiful journey; I was overcome with emotion for like ten minutes. I grabbed my phone and started recording my thoughts into it for my future self. In that moment, I felt like I was talking to myself and that I was listening on the other end. I was trying to tell my future self that he’s worthy; that he’s not a shitty person; that he deserves love and the good things that life has to offer. I had a lot of compassion for myself during my trip and trippy images and hallucinations aside, it was beautiful. I felt at peace for the first time in… I don’t even know, Z. 

That leads me to this. I know that you and I are never going to talk again but I want you to know these things.
Z, I’m sorry for what I did to you. I’m sorry for the hurt and the pain that I caused you. I’m sorry that I cheated on you; I’m sorry for the emotional abuse I caused you. You deserve every apology they make for this sort of thing. I’m sorry not because I got caught; I’m sorry for what pain I caused you and I’m sorry because I did something that was ugly; I’m ashamed of what I did. No, I’m not trying to martyr myself here. I still agonize over what I did and how I acted.  You deserved so much better than what I gave you. You deserve to be loved and cherished and respected, Z. I’m just working on myself, developing compassion for myself, and trying to be consistent with others in my life—I want to be a better person than who I was when I was with you. I hope that the work I do on myself, what I learn, and how I treat others down the road so I never act the way i did with you ever again; and I hope that measures up to a suitable apology. 

You made me feel safe, you made me feel considered, you held me; you knew the real me. You added a lot to my life and it’s better for you having been in it. 

I hope you get the good things from life and that you are happy. You deserve those things. 

Goodbye, Z.