I struggle with speaking. I don't understand it; why it's so difficult for me to speak. Why is it that when I talk, I stumble and trip over myself, but when I write, my words hold grace? I've puzzled over this question many, many times, and never have I found an answer.
So, upon debating trying to use my mouth or writing, I decided that this is how I will explain it; the story not told.
I loved our time together. Those five and a half months were the best; those times I spent with you. Those last couple weeks of classes and that following summer; they were magnificent. I was so happy to love and be loved in return; to experience something that I had never known in the reciprocal love of a partner.
As you know, right as our sophomore year began, my mother got remarried. I can now look back and pinpoint that time as when I started to falter. Every single day,before and after their marriage, I had to wake up and know that there was a new man in my mum's life — in my life — and I had to watch them kiss and laugh and hug like she and my dad used to.
And it hurt. Oh, did it hurt. One would think that, five years later, the pain would have numbed, but it hadn't. Because every time my mum and him shared a kiss, I was reminded of my dad and his girlfriend, back when he still at least pretended to love me. I was reminded of the betrayal and heartbreak that I had to live with every day all those years ago, and it still pains me when I remember now. What made all this even worse was the transition from junior high to high school; the added weight of harder classes, higher standards, and longer days.
I tried to conceal it; my hurt, my suffering, my anguish. It was a daily struggle of old wounds resurfacing and even older habits coming back. In short, the repercussions I vaguely told you about were the resurfacing of my depression, anxiety, and anorexia. I even started cutting myself again.
I didn't tell you about this because I thought I could handle it on my own, but that was a horrible decision. I should have confided in you, and, as a couple, we could work together and pull me out of my slump.
But I didn't do that. I just let everything eat away at me until your happiness, your love, and your compassion started to eat at me. I began to get angry with how much you loved me and get annoyed with your displays of affection.
Subconsciously, I wanted you to know about it all; my subliminal mind begged me to tell you about how broken I was inside, how much I just needed to speak.
Obviously, I didn't listen.
I'm such a wimp; I had to break up with you over text and I'm now explaining myself — nearly three months later — in a story format.
All I have left to say now is that I'm sorry.
I'm so incredibly sorry for destroying what we had, for demolishing the dreams we made and for leading you on. I'm so sorry for not confiding in you, and I'm so sorry for being such a selfish brat.
Most of all, I'm sorry that, because of my selfishness, I can't see us being together ever again.
You may not want to have anything to do with me after all this, and that's alright. All I wish for is for you to be able to smile sincerely again; to be truly happy and content.
I wish you the very best.