Dear S,

I’m so sorry about breaking up with you. I’m sorry I couldnt give you a straight answer for almost four months as to exactly why I did it, first blaming distance, then letting you believe it was your fault.

I couldn’t deal. I’m sorry I got so wrapped up in work and lost sight of my values. I’m sorry I couldn’t see how loving you were being. Because I didn’t want to. I had spent so much time crying over you ignoring me and raving about how intelligent, creative and wonderful your other female friends were. I didnt feel special to you. And this all sounds so wanky because it doesn’t and never will justify what I did.

That summer we lived together could have been the most wonderfu time of our lives. But it wasn’t. I ruined it. Asking to move out to be closer to work. Not being there for you when your college application was rejected. Not doing enough to be there for you when you couldnt find a job. I should have made you pancakes, given you massages, called in sick to work so I could stay in bed all day with you, brought you to Amsterdam, and gotten the first train home every morning if I had to stay out at work. I wish, wish, wish I’d done all those things for you.

I wish I’d believed you when you said you loved me. I wish I hadnt been so bitter and taken it up as you “having nothing better at the moment”. It was 6 years, if you wanted something better, you would have gone out and gotten something better.

I wasn’t used to having power in the relationship. Before that, we always saw each other on your terms, and I felt like I needed to be the model girlfriend at all times for you to still love me. I never felt you were interested in my life, my interests, my career. I felt like my role was the “supportive girlfriend” and by God I was. Until the last few weeks. I needed your support too, and neither of us could give it. Families falling apart, careers going to shit, being terrified of the future. I couldn’t take the pressure, so I made a shitty decision

I should have talked. I should have screamed and shouted and fought with you over things. I should have fucking communicated.

But I didnt. I pretended it was fine. I went to work. I phoned you to say it wasnt working.

I didnt mean to do it over the phone. In my mind it was meant to be a mercy, however small, letting you brace yourself for seeing me the next day to talk it out properly. But it was the worst thing I could have done. I will never forget that scream. I will never, never forgive myself.

Six months down the line, you have another girlfriend, and I want you back more than anything. I was a coward. I still find it hard to reconcile what I did with the idea I used to have of myself as a good person. We had such a great relationship, and when we lived together, you said it was like falling in love again.

You say you’ve forgiven me, although you’ve moved on. I can’t forgive myself.

A