Thursday 23 May 2013

I Love You, But I Love Myself More


My friends think I’m mad. Not for leaving — that, they’ve been encouraging me to do for a long time — but for having stayed with you for so long. They could see that you were smart, intelligent and charming enough in conversation. Everyone could see the superficial qualities you possessed. But for me to have given so much of myself to you over such an important chunk of my youth, that was insane. When I told them that I was finally going to cut it off, my friends jumped with joy.
You’ll ask me if I love you, and I do. You’ll give me all of these big, overdone speeches about how much I mean to you and that I am so important to you that if we happen to stop talking to each other you’d die- and that’s probably true, actually. People won’t love me the same. They will love me more wholly, more healthily, more meaningfully. Our love will become an unfortunate phase on a timeline, something that I look back on and shake my head. You will be a cautionary tale, and you know it. Even as you throw a dish and tell me that I am the one to blame, that I am the crazy one here.
The truth is that I do love you. I am consumed by you, and partially by how badly you treated me. I have grown accustomed to always being told how other girls were far better than I am, that what I do is wrong, that I should be doing this instead. It’s almost comforting to have someone there to dictate your life, like your mother laying out your school clothes the night before so you don’t have to think about it. But there is only so far I can get with that kind of love, so much I can allow it to take over my life before I realize that I am only doing myself a disservice. My parents would have never embraced you. My girlfriends would have never forgiven you. And I am not interested in torturing myself with questions relating to you and your girlfriend, whether you love her or not? I’m sure you will. And maybe you’ll manage to fool her for even longer than you did me.
Because I know that my love for you is something fundamentally unhealthy, something that chips away at my ego and saps at my self-confidence in order to grow something which we all know isn’t going to last. It is an addiction like any other, something that I am paying for with my personality and autonomy and future. The relation with you came at a high cost. I picture myself staying in this relationship for another year, another three years, the rest of my life — I hate what I see. I hate how many parts of me I allow you to take with you when you walk out of the room, how many opportunities I give up on so that you will believe I really love you.
I love me more. I love the idea of growing into someone who has her own apartment, her own career, her own future that only she dictates. I want to meet the woman I become when I free myself of shitty men like you, when I allow myself to make mistakes and do all of the things that I would never be able to do with you. You compared me with every single girl on earth because I think you are afraid of what I’ll be without you. Maybe you think I’ll realize that I could do better, or that I simply deserve better. Maybe you think I’ll look in the mirror and notice that I’m beautiful.
I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but that is already the case. Goodbye. 

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