Better Left Unsaid

Last night, I gave you a letter I had written in September of 2010.  My feelings since then haven't changed much.  Yes, things have improved between you and I in the last year, but if they had improved as much as we'd hoped, we wouldn't be at the cross roads we are today. 

I love you, D, with all my heart.  You are my soul, and I couldn't imagine living my life with anyone else.  That letter I wrote you the year to the date before our daughter was born said it all perfectly.  I hope to grow old with you and sit on our front porch watching the sun rise and fall beneath the horizon together.  Our future grandchildren will want to come and visit Mimi and Papa, because we will have it all. 

That is a fairytale.  It was a fairytale when I wrote it at 17, and it's still a fairytale.  How in the hell are those things supposed to come true when neither one of us are on the same page?  That letter I gave you last night, I have no idea if you honestly did read it or if, like all the others, you tossed it to the side.  Or did you tear it up and dismiss it just like the one I wrote you in 2002?  That's my biggest fear. 

No, that is not my biggest fear.  My fear is that our family will not remain a united family.  We're falling apart at the seams, and these seams can only take so much pressure before they rip and we're left with nothing but the ruins of what could have been.  I don't know what else to do at this point.  I'm terrified of losing the one constant in my life.  On the other hand, if/when I get over you, I'm terrified of what the world will throw at me.

Can I handle what is in store for me should you not be by my side?   I'm not entirely sure I want to.  At the same time, you don't offer much support for me when the chaos starts now, so why would you be my anchor to life in any other scenario? 

There are many things I wish I could know.  The workings of your mind and your honest feelings for me are tempting...I wish I could know these things, but at the same time, I'm not sure I would like the results if this were at all a possibility.  I'm scared of what you think of me due to the fact that I am a horrible human being. 

No, I'm not a horrible human being.  I hate who I am when I'm with you.  I dislike the way I allow you to control my emotions, and I dislike how I lose self control when it comes to you.  I don't know how else to put this.  My brain is tired, and it's 3a.m.  Your alarm is going off, and I have to get our son ready for school in four hours.  I'm calling it quits for the night...maybe.

D, know that I'll always love you.

Why?

Why are the words you choose to say to me the one's that hurt me the most?  Is it because you know what words will cut me in half?  Is it because you know me so well you know exactly what phrases will pierce my heart?  Why must you spew your hate at me?  Am I that evil?  Am I that awful?  I know I've said some terrible things...awful things to you.  I know I'm not the easiest person to live with, by far.  I have admitted this to you time and time again.  I've told you how incredibly sorry I am for being so difficult.  I've apologized, and things get better between us.  They do.  They get better, because the things that I am angry about no longer concern me.  I don't let the problems that I see with you get in between us.  In other words, I keep my fucking mouth shut.  I'm not allowed to have a damn opinion.  I can't tell you what I think you should and shouldn't be doing.  How fucking hypocritical is that, you narsasassistic, arrogant, fucking prick!!  I cannot believe that you would threaten me with the one thing in this world that means anything to me.   I can't believe that you would stoop to my level...ouch.  That one hurt to type.  It's the truth.  I"m no better.  I've done exactly what you're doing.  Many times.  I've threatened you with the one thing that means anything to you, because I know it'll hurt you.  Maybe that's why you've said and done what you did.  What about everything else?   I'm writing this goddamn blog, because every other fucking letter I've written you, you've dismissed.  I still have one of them in my sock drawer, because you fucking glanced over it and didn't give it a second thought.  You never take me seriously. My words don't mean anything to you.  Whether they're angry words or kind words or thoughtful words...none of it means a damn thing to you, and I don't know why I'm getting so fucking upset over this bullshit.  I've spent nearly twelve years of my life loving you and hating you at the same time.  Life's too fucking short to spend it miserably, so why am I still here?  Why am I still here after everything you've done to me?   I know I've hurt you, but nothing comes close to what you did to me last winter.  Why did you do that?  I think that is the problem.  You had a full blown affair, and I can't get over it.  I can't let it go.  I mention counseling, and you think we can fix this on our own.  Yeah fucking right.  Alot of good that's doing us, now, huh?  What the fuck am I supposed to do?  I'm a prisoner in my own home.  I want to leave, but I have no money, and I have no job.  I'm drowning in school, and I don't have a way out.  When I do find a way out, I can't think of ripping the kids away from you again.  I don't want to do that to them...or you.  I love you too fucking much to take them away from you, again.  I saw what that did to you before, and I don't want you to be a royal fuck up for the rest of your life, but without your kids, you use that as an excuse to get fucked up and drink and party all the time....saying things like, "YOu don't know what it's like to not have your kids."  Well, no I don't, but you would think that not having your kids would make you want to straighten your shit up.  Get it together.  I just don't think we're compatible anymore.  I think I've outgrown you, and we're definitely not good for one another.  I wish you could read this...I wish you could empathize with me.  Sit down with me, take my hand, and look me in the eye and say, I understand.  Let's make this work.  But you can't...you never will.  It's not in you, and that's what hurts the most.  You aren't capable of making this work.  You can't be what I need you to be, because it's not in you.  I don't want much, but what I have now isn't working anymore.  It worked when we were two kids in school up until we were two adult fuck ups with kids in school, but I'm not that person anymore, and neither are you.  We're not those people anymore, and we've outgrown one another.  We've drifted so far apart that I'm not sure we'll ever find our way back to one another.  I don't know how.  Why?  Why does everything with us have to be so fucking hard?