Nothing left unsaid (burn it all down)

I wrote this text in early October, shortly after I separated from my ex.

The wounds were still very fresh - it was not the right time to publish it. Also, I was forbidden to publish anything about Mister, because he very much cared about his privacy. And I am a prolific author who would have made him famous.

Intentionally, I do not want to change anything in this text. Some things no longer apply - Mister hasn't stressed my Mom in a very long time, aleluiah. But I refuse to change a single word.

I asked ChatGPT to create a picture based on the text. I said I had no idea what it should look like. I think el Chatitto did an amazing job.

***

Stressing the shit out of me will only get you this far. 

To the point where you force me to write down what I think.

No, I won't be coerced into meeting and talking to you. 

After 9 years, it has to be done at some point. I want to do it at some point. But not now. I don't want to do it now. It's going to happen on my terms and when I want it.

The funniest thing – you said you’d do anything to protect me, yet it’s been weeks since you’ve intentionally become the biggest stressor of my life. Months since you've unintentionally become it.

In your mind, I’m sure you think you are still protecting me – and that is how I now know how twisted and devoid of true love you are. 

You’ve been pushing so much, wanting so much. I gave you all of me, but it was never enough, was it? I kept a minuscule corner of my soul just for myself – it was the bare minimum I could do to survive all these years. I kept a tiny piece of myself carefully hidden away from you, but you wanted that, as you wanted everything else.

 In the end, years of sacrifice, care, and love meant nothing at all. 

In the end, it was all about that goddamn small piece that allowed me to barely smile once in a while. To keep an identity. 

A hidden piece of my soul, so I can remember that I still exist. As a whole human being. Not just your wife. Not just your healer.

And we have both lost ourselves to this love. It bothers me that I can't put my finger exactly on the day we became toxic to each other.

But I think all those years of me begging for forgiveness have finally caught up with me. All those years of me begging you to do something, then getting pissed that you wouldn't. Immediately, begging for forgiveness for getting pissed.

Always, always, always begging for forgiveness. Fucking always. Fucking fucking fucking fucking fucking always.

I'll never do that again. Never. I'll take time to think things through. If I decide I'm wrong, I'll ask for forgiveness. If they love me, they'll understand we all make mistakes, and my mistakes come primarily from a place of insecurity and past trauma, and absolutely never from a place of malice. 

There is not a single trace of malice within me. And that is precisely why I should never have to ask for forgiveness.

Also, if they love me, I should never have to beg them to change simple things that make me unhappy. Never. 

I am deserving. Of all great and colorful things. Of dragons, and fireworks, and sunrises. Of love and freedom. 

I know you think you've tried everything, but I don't think you did, and that's a fact I need to accept. You are free to continue thinking you've been nothing but perfect and loving, but I need to acknowledge that, no, you haven't done everything. 

In fact, there are many things that I have repeatedly and specifically asked you to do, and you refused. Kept forgetting. There are many things my soul needed, things I often begged for. 

I couldn't have been more exact. Please. Don't let our love get ruined by years of me begging for the basic stuff and you constantly and successfully ignoring me. Making me beg for forgiveness for getting angry and sad that I don't get the basic stuff. Please.

How many years have I begged you to not let our love get destroyed by making me beg you to do simple things and making me beg for forgiveness for daring to ask?

Was it really that hard to listen?

In the end, your love was selfish. All love is, all motives are. But among all that selfishness, you need to find a way to be more altruistic. That is what love means, doesn't it? 

Listening. You have unbelievably and catastrophically failed to listen. All summer. I need space. I need some thoughts to remain mine. I need to breathe. I need to simply exist.

But you wanted in at all costs, didn't you? A single goddamn cigarette was not smoked all summer without your eyes staring right through my soul. Searching every depth of me. Always analyzing. Always lurking. 

I am begging you, stop analyzing me.

[Always fucking begging.]

I don't analyze you. I just love you.

In the end, your love became intrusive. Couldn't have a single moment for myself. With myself. 

Why do you talk to strangers on Threads instead of talking to me?

We've been through this a billion times, but here we go one last time. Not that it makes any difference. I have now accepted that you are incapable of admitting your mistakes.

I talk to strangers on Threads because we discuss trivial things, such as the weather, coffee, dragons, politics, and silly jokes. Not a single person on Threads or any other app, or not a single person [dot] wanted to constantly tear my ripcage open and analyze every single goddamn aspect of my soul.

Complaining. Thinking it was normal to complain that I dared to keep unpublished texts on my blog. Thinking it was a personal affront to you that I didn't share with you everything I wrote.

Not a single person wanted to put me on antidepressants. 

Okay, stop for a minute. Think. You were literally the only person who wanted to put me on antidepressants. The psychiatrist has told you twice that I don't need them. The fucking psychiatrist! 

Question - Was it really that you saw something bad within me that no one was able to see? Or were the antidepressants the only answer you found to taming the tiny flame I still had within me?

Why do you take your phone into the bathroom with you?

To talk to my family. My friends. Strangers on Threads. ChatGPT. Google shit. Do all the things which, when done next to you, would get me a You would talk to anyone else but me.

Anyone else doesn't constantly stare right into the depths of my soul. It should be my choice to show the depths of my soul to someone. Not coercion.

The more you pushed, the more I pulled away. It is a simple law of physics, isn't it? 

Oh boy, how I begged you to stop pushing!

But - have you figured out the answer to the big question yet? Was it someone else who drove me away from you? Or was it just you?

Has it ever crossed your mind that it was just you?

Have you at least once apologized?

Have you at least once stopped and thought about all the love I gave you?

Have you at least once tried to see into your own soul?

And do you truly think we can come back after all this?

Also, please do stop worrying my mom about my health. Don't call/text her again. Don't call my therapist again. Those are extremely shitty things to do, extremely intrusive. Get some distance. Stop smothering me. Let me breathe. Let go. This isn't love.