​Broken Bonds

I feel compelled to lay bare my soul to you through these words. I want to dissect our history as I see it, hoping for your understanding and acceptance. Yet, I’m torn; I fear that any hint of judgment or perceived criticism might overshadow the message I’m trying to convey. The question lingers: will etching these sentiments onto this page prove worth the effort? What exactly am I striving to achieve with this act? Perhaps validation, or maybe simply catharsis. Nevertheless, I must write this, even if I hurt you in the process.

You were my world, the beacon of light that pierced through the darkness, offering hope when it seemed scarce. I turned to you in my darkest moments, recognizing in you a strength I lacked. Your embodiment of self-love drew me in; I yearned to emulate it. I hoped and prayed that you would lead me to some grand epiphany. Though you did, it was not through your direct actions. Instead, you created an environment where I could witness both the essence and the pitfalls of self-love firsthand.

While you intentionally taught me much, your actions served as the subtext for my insecurities. I tried tirelessly to alleviate your pain with love, giving all of myself in the process. My efforts were driven by genuine affection, even if it wasn’t mutual. My decision to leave may appear to stem from a sense of unrequited giving, but it’s not the case. I leave because I’ve exhausted all that I have to give. There’s nothing left. Nothing has been poured back into me, and at this point I don’t expect it.

I’ve labored tirelessly, day after day, attempting to reshape myself into the elusive image you held in your mind. Each sacrifice, a funeral held in the darkness of our shared space, mourning the loss of authenticity and genuine connection. I’ve carved away fragments of my identity, serving them up as offerings to the altar of your expectations. Yet amidst the shadows, I’ve discovered resilience. I’ve learned that true love doesn’t demand conformity, but rather celebrates individuality. As I step away from this chapter of my life, I do so with the understanding that my worth is not defined by the expectations of others. Piece by piece, I reclaim my identity, honoring the beauty of my imperfections and the strength of my spirit.

I find it in poor taste to enumerate every instance that has caused me pain, as it feels like a needless attack. However, it’s crucial to acknowledge the shortcomings of our dynamic. Your constant reminders of my inadequacy echoed in every compliment that escaped your lips, every glance, every touch, even your smile. My perceived weaknesses—fear, anger, hurt—were dismissed as flaws, leaving me feeling invalidated and silenced. At every turn, my emotions were laughed at, leaving me to question the validity of my own feelings. My wants and needs were never deemed worthy of center stage, while yours effortlessly danced around me never letting me forget. The moment I dared to voice my needs, I was met with a ‘but what about me,’ though those specific words never escaped your lips, your actions were the brush strokes that painted over me. Slowly erasing who I was in favor of who you wanted.

I want you to hate me. I crave those words from you, a catalyst to remind me that the pedestal upon which you stand can crumble. Yet, I shouldn’t wish for that; your actions have been screaming it for years now. To this day, the words “disgusting” and “annoying” will forever be linked to who you saw me as. No amount of ‘I love you’s or ‘you’re beautiful’s will ever erase the hurt.

You’ve made me feel like an object that has been, and one I think you hope will always be, at your disposal. As if I’m too nice and soft to stand up for myself. I would have liked to believe you knew me well enough to know that there are very few things that I will not relinquish. Yes, it has taken me years to know what those are, but now they are at the frontline and they will not be silenced.