no return address

E,

I’ve written so many letters to you, most of them given to you by hand, some by mail. You’ve cried reading them. I’m known for making people cry with my letters, usually happy tears. I wonder if you kept any. Truly, from the bottom of my heart, I have absolutely no idea. You were a minimalist, but you could be sentimental when you wanted to be. You believed people could control their emotions, so maybe you decided to throw them out when you decided not to love me anymore. You are also heartless in many ways. The thing is, I knew you for years, I lived with you for months at a time, I gave you so much of me, and I still feel like I know nothing about you. I thought I did. But you’re a liar, such a liar to the point where I don’t know how much truth there was to anything you said to me. For 5 years. I think you loved me, at least a little, but I also know you hated me. I remember that time you saw a psychiatrist and we had a brief breakthrough. They said you had ‘low empathy’, and I’m sure they were right. It’s not a dig at you. I feel sorry for what you went through, and I feel sorry for what you struggle with. I even feel sorry for your refusal to deal with these things. I don’t know if I believe in good and bad people but if you do, then I would say that you are a bad person. You have done inexplicable, unfathomable, and I fear, irreparable damage to me. I have to go to therapy specifically for you. I have to go to therapy because you refused to. The worst part is that I don’t think you feel bad. You didn’t cry when we broke up. It was odd. I told you that you were a coward for doing it over the phone, and we both know I’m right about that. You were the most destructive force in my life and yet you couldn’t bear to watch me cry. Repenting in church can only go so far, and you know I say that as a Christian too. It's great that God forgives you, but I’m not God. I don’t forgive you, not that you ever asked. You’ve always been more focused on getting into heaven than being a good man. I don’t wish death upon you. First, on principle. Second, I don’t think it’s what you deserve. I think it’d be too easy. What I wish is for you to understand the pain that you’ve put me - and likely other women - through. I hope you’ll apologize, but more importantly, I hope you’ll stop hurting other people. And the bitter part of me, hopes most of all that you’ll live with that guilt for the rest of your life. That you won’t sleep as well as you used to, that you’ll sleep like I do - anxious, full of grief, lonely. I hope that one day, I will heal, and you will carry the burden for me.

Here is the part where I generally say ‘love always’ at the end of all my letters. That’d be a lie. So I’ll say this:

Sincerely,

You know who