If I’m not someone who is worth prioritising a few minutes each day for a check in, whose opinion matters, who gets to know about your life, there isn’t anything you can say. I love you and desperately wanted to hold onto the you that I met. But I have never felt so worthless and unwanted. I cried today, when the director said, “Good morning Josette. How are you?” from how much I am hurting. If there truly isn’t a way of prioritising a few minutes for a friendship then, I can’t allow this connection to make me mentally unstable any longer.
I can’t just be a person someone talks to when they’re bored. The “idiots” I’ve dated bought houses, asked for my opinions beforehand, kept me in the loop and saw me. I’ve bought a property and was still able to write a novel, walk to Stratford-upon-Avon, go to the Malvern Hills, read three books, apply to and move jobs twice, and visit Henley-in-Arden multiple times. So it doesn’t make sense for buying somewhere to be the reason why I’m just not worth anyone’s time either.
It’s obviously my fault. I’m not blaming you. I’m just not good enough for you, or anyone. I’m almost 35 and alone for a reason. I’d surely have a real, loving relationship if it wasn’t all my fault. I just wish I understood why no one wants an “us” with me, why can’t have the only thing I want. With everyone else, it is expected and they take it for granted. I try really hard to shrink myself and shrink myself and not ask for anything, but basic communication, but I’m still too much. I’m sorry for ruining 9 and half months of your life. If I could make it up to you, I would. If there is anything I can do to ever repay you, just say it and I will.
If we could maybe be friends and I can say hello to you sometime, that would be nice. But I completely understand that if you meet someone else in three weeks time and they’ll live with you straight away and you’ll marry them and live happily ever after, that knowing me would be uncomfortable. You’ll make things work with someone else, just like everyone else does. You were wonderful with me, until I did whatever I always do to turn a loving relationship into something distant, so I know you will be perfect for someone else. Your hoodie has lost the smell of you, and you can have it back, if you want it, or anything else that is at mine.
I’ll always love you, I just can’t keep hurting and crying every night, feeling scared and confused because I don’t understand what’s going on or why everything is so different, feels nothing like a relationship and feels so unsafe and scary.
I will probably never understand what I always do wrong, why a close relationship always ends with them moving away and contact being so nonexistent and I’m always being punished with the silent treatment and I don’t understand why. If that’s the only thing that I can have from anyone, and I’m truly allowed the basic level of communication for a minimalistic relationship, then I need to be alone.
I want the you who I met, who vanished after you turned 34, just like everyone else. Dating people who turn 34 is a curse for me. You’ve changed, just like them and it terrifies me. I want the Dexter who cuddled me to sleep, who said he loved me, that this was my life now, who said that it would always be like this, that things would never change, that we would get married and live happily ever after, that we would always have a countdown on my phone to us being together or doing something together. I just want that.
Someone has been banging the front and back doors for over two hours and it is scary, on top of how overwhelmed I feel. I wish I didn’t live on my own. I might have to sell my maisonette, I know I will make a huge loss on it, and move back in with my mum. I think buying my own place was a big mistake. It’s not going to help me financially and I have no one to pass it on to when I die, so it is pointless.
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