An Unsent Letter

One of the last things you said to me before walking out of my life for the last time is “we just see things differently.” That’s true. I could never do what you do to people; you could never be my partner.

And that’s ok.

I expected something from you that is almost meaningless to you. You saw how much damage you were causing, but it didn’t change your behavior, and you never seemed to get why commitment even mattered to me so much in the first place.

I’m sorry I asked you to be my partner. I’m sorry I asked you to marry me. These were demands that you couldn’t satisfy and you knew it, yet you accepted anyway.

Don’t hurt other people by performing commitment. Be who you are and don’t get into scenarios where you have to apologize for it. Don’t feel shame. There are people out there who want the same things you do, but I’m not one of them.

I shamed you. I’m sorry for that… but you did lie almost every day. I noticed.

Rather than communicate in factual terms, you say things primarily to affect people, whether positively or negatively. When you said “you’re the worst decision of my life”, I was affected and I also knew it wasn’t true. On the other hand, if the decision in question was your agreeing to be someone you aren’t then… maybe it was the worst. Maybe I derailed your whole plan; I really don’t know. You certainly worked hard doing something else.

I know you would have discarded me the moment you found your “first husband”. Neither of us really expected we would ever get married; you mostly liked the ring.

I almost died being committed to you. You tried to leave many times, and you were right to do so. Our relationship was harmful.

Why did we stay together for so long, though? There was something. It wasn’t a partnership, it was a beautiful connection. You connect with many people, though, and that’s ok.

You feel safe when people provide for you generously. I refused because I couldn’t do it responsibly; I’m not that rich. I compensated by providing love and support. I guess maybe you need those things and the other things simultaneously. You don’t really see a problem with living a contradictory double life. You stayed and lied rather than simply telling me, “Daniel, I’m not interested in committing to you.”

I would have understood.

I didn’t understand, though. I need partitions and clarity. You have none. Your actions hurt me, which in turn hurt you.

There is nothing wrong with you or even with the things you did besides the lies, the violence, and the cruelty. All were symptoms of the burden of commitment in our relationship.

I don’t really harbor animosity besides the echos of the hurt in my body.

Saying these things to you directly would be harmful. We both know that. We haven’t spoken in almost two years and that’s the way it should remain. I don’t care if you read this or not, but there are people who should. It’s part of my story now, so I’m telling it.

My fear for you had been that the men you might depend on would abandon you. I’m not afraid of that anymore. You’re smart, you have character, and you have a beauty that will last a lifetime.

You aren’t someone who can be captured. It’s not because you resist it, it’s because it doesn’t affect you.

Daniel