I spent almost four years on and off trying to determine what we were, if anything at all. I did everything I possibly could think of trying to convince you that relationships aren’t scary and that marriage isn’t just a big party and paperwork. I overlooked you short comings and ignored that we disagreed on important topics; I trusted that we would work things out, not disappear without notice. I tolerated days, weeks, even months of radio silence assuming that things kept you tied up and I had somehow slipped your mind when I should have known to stop worrying about which bar you were getting drunk at when a big storm came through. I went to a funeral for a man I had never met, simply to show you my unwavering support.
You see, that’s all I ever wanted. Just for you to truly grasp how highly I thought, and still think, of you, how far out of my way I was willing to go to prove that you could trust me, and to show you that I wasn’t going to run out on you like everyone else.
Today I realized, finally, that even though I’ve done everything in my power to make there being an ‘us’ easier on you, and we could never happen. You can’t swallow your pride and are too busy going out every weekend.
I can’t tell you how many times I have cried myself to sleep in frustration and disappointment with myself because I couldn’t figure out why you always seemed to slip away right as I felt you the closet to being mine.
So, I’m done. I really do wish you the best in life, but don’t call me unless it’s an absolute emergency.
I couldn’t take the heartache anymore.