Words Left Unsaid

I've sat here. Sat here in front of this very screen. I've sat here and thought about all the things to say. All the anger I have felt. I have typed and erased. Walked away and found mantras to shift the words, change the energy. For months now, I have left words unsaid.

I used to think about screaming at you and telling you all the things you fucked up. How you fucked up. How angry I was. How embarrassed I felt.

But, I didn't.

I felt bad for you. Sorry for you. He's had an easy life. He doesn't like conflict. He can't deal with problems very well. He had a hard decision to make, it stressed him out. I thought of EVERYTHING under the sun to be the bigger person.

I've been outwardly cheated on. Treated poorly. All of which were addressed face to face.

You. You were nothing but a coward. Always a coward.

It's funny; in this life, I think as we become the people we are meant to be and continue to grow, we develop words that describe us. One's that others actually use to describe us.

You. You never had a word to me. How funny is that?

I thought about it one day, close to the end. I just thought it's because he's lived a safe life, he doesn't really have opinions, doesn't express them, never wants to upset people... I realized that you needed to take that job you needed to make that change. You needed to develop a sense of you. You never had that, just the sport you love. People think of you and think of that sport. That's not a description of who you are as a person, a being.

I don't know if I believe anything from our relationship now. I don't believe you every wanted to be there. To be with me.

I applaud you.

Truly, I applaud.

I applaud how twisted you were. How fake you were. How much you lied. How much you lacked love and passion and a general sense of caring for me.

I applaud your ability to act, but, I wouldn't equate the word actor to you.

You don't deserve that. That's reserved for people of talent. People with passion, drive and care for what they are acting for, who they are acting for. You weren't acting for my benefit—it was always for your own. But, why?

Why fucking be with me at all?

You never wanted to do things I suggested. It took WEEKS just to go hiking ONE time. Everything was around your schedule of the sport you love. "We can't go for sushi I have a game tomorrow. I'll feel shitty running. Okay, fine. What about another night; well we can't just go us two it needs to be more people. Okay, fine, let's invite other people." This is just one example of the UTTER BULLSHIT you used to give me. It's my own fault. I was always so nice and understanding for you. Your acting was good because when you laid next to me, or laid your head on my chest and used to tell me that it was the best feeling in the world, I fucking believed you.

YOU'RE A FUCKING LIAR.

Everything you did or didn't do, you lied. You lied being there, you lied to avoid things. You lied. Plain and simple.

I have over 10,000 words for you; none of which are nice.

Here we are now. Still making a mockery every time you post a photo with her. Not because it's her, I don't give a shit about that. Because you never ever posted about me. About us. And I KNOW that's childish and shouldn't mean anything but the sickening fact is that in this day and age, it does. You clearly were embarrassed by me. Never loved me. But laid with me otherwise.

I'm sorry I'm so fucking embarrassing, that you friends loved me, that they still say how much they miss me, that they message me and say hi, invite me for coffee dates and breakfast. I'm sorry, I WAS SO FUCKING EMBARRASSING FOR YOU.

After all the men I have dated, seen, and loved—because of when I was calling you out on things, not posting about us, about your job, about what you were going to do, about giving you space and about looking you DEAD IN THE EYES on multiple occasions and telling you I don't want anyone in my life who doesn't want to be there and you not saying otherwise—after all that, all the things, all the shit, all the laughter, all your lies that you knew were lies, all the time you didn't want to be with me but didn't want to let me go; you did one thing, tried to always be the good guy or look like the good guy and I think, after all that, you fucked up worse than any of the others. You damaged more, you hurt more, you faked more. When all I ever asked of you was to only be there IF YOU REALLY WANTED TO. That's all I ask of anyone.

I dragged it out of you and still had to try and be the bigger person and the nice person to you because I'm "such an incredible person." Well fuck you. I'm done. I've been nice. I've been understanding. I've been your friend, your pen-pal but clearly never someone you loved. You're a coward.

That's your fucking word, coward.

Enjoy.

Who we are and what we are are the words that describe us from now until the end of our days.

Some people have different words for the same person and it's funny how that is.

Mine for you is coward and clearly yours for me was shame.

I hope these words find you one day. And I hope you know they are for you.

One of my mantras I have through it all, especially during all the times I thought about just screaming at you was, "What are your best intentions?" I hold those near. You never had intentions for me—not then, not now, not for the long term or short and I WISH you just had the BALLS at one point to have let me go.

My intentions still aren't to hurt you. But hurt is greater than you. My intentions have and always will be the need for understanding. For me and for others.

So, I hope, if these words ever find there way to you, that you understand I hope to never see you again. And if I don't see you until six days after my final day on this earth, just know, it'll be six days too soon.

I wish you well. And I wish you enough.