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Dear Marcos,
There’s a part of me that wants to believe that you’re a bad person, and that you lied because you dislike me that much as a person and that you wanted to save your own skin; the other part of me still takes the blame for what happened and wants to believe that this is still something that can be fixed. You have left indelible marks upon me: one on my chest materially; the other on my heart.
I think about the path I have taken up to this point, and how if I made the tiniest change in the past, I may have never met you. How if I went to another high school and had different interests, I wouldn’t have picked the major that I did. How a slightest change could have led to me choosing another university to attend. How if anything was different, I wouldn’t have met you on that day. I could have never known of your existence and be none the wiser for the rest of my life. Every small act of my life led to meeting you. I feel punished by God to have known you the way I have. If you were to ask me today about I how I feel about you, I would tell you that I would have rather never loved at all than to have loved and lost. You have stolen away all of my affections, joy, and inspiration: I have nothing left in my heart for anyone else. You have taken integral parts of me that I can never have returned.
Since I’ve met you, I’ve changed in ways that frighten me. I’m colder now. I no longer find joy in the things I once did. The pain you have inflicted is unbearable. I’m tired; I’m so tired. I wanted to be someone I could be proud of being. I was so excited to start a new chapter in my life. I was so happy to meet you on that day. I was so excited to get to know you. As time went on, I realized that you were not a blessing sent to me as a sign to remain here, but as a punishment for my naivety and prolonged innocence. I crave a permanent existence in the grave. I don’t want to wake up anymore.
I don’t regret the actions I’ve taken leading up to today. I waited for you as long as I could back then. I could never hate you, and there will always be a part of me that would accept your apology. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to see you again; I’m scared to remember and know your voice. You’re everywhere: I see you in the passerby and your favorite number; I hear you in the music you shared with me in that summer; and I feel you in the embraces of others. And I breakdown every time.
I don’t understand why you treated me the way you did. It’s closure I desperately want. I would trade anything to start over and figure out what went wrong and what I did to deserve your treatment.
I hope you read this someday. I hope you know this was written for you. I’ve known you as a man of inflated self-importance: you think you’re made for something bigger than your small city in the south. This reason and your pride are what I think will allow you to confirm my identity. Regretfully, I am buying into your pride in hopes that you’ll find this.
Sincerely,
The one you never wanted to be yours
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