An Unsent Letter to My Ex

Just because my ex won't give me the closure I crave, doesn't mean I can't get it for myself. This is everything I desperately wish I had the nerve and means to tell them myself. 

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I know you don’t want to hear from me at all but after everything, I need to say this for myself. Even if that means writing this letter that will never reach your doorstep and pouring my heart out not knowing if you'll ever see it.

In the end, I had the privilege to end things but not the privilege of any real closure. So here I am, typing away into cyberspace just to give myself the closure you didn't think I deserved, and ultimately taking responsibility for my part in how everything ended. I’m not writing for you, I’m writing for me. This letter exists because you think you’re too good to apologize, but that doesn’t mean I can’t. It doesn’t mean I’ll never get closure. Your words are not the end all be all of my moving on and I am determined to do so whether or not you ever decide to own up to your actions.

Before you even say it, I know we are never going to speak again. And it is incredibly jarring to experience the abrupt transition from spending nearly every day with someone to having them completely out of my life. I am just now wrapping my head around the fact that hating you didn’t make me miss you any less, only time did.

You were an important part of my life. A lesson. You taught me to demand respect in everything I do. You taught me what I want, and you definitely taught me what I don’t.

At the time, it was worth the few good moments. Looking over at you when I woke up in the morning, sharing an overpriced drink, going places we couldn’t afford, wrecking our shoes on a nature trail together, getting breakfast…

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It felt almost impossible to leave because I was so stuck on savoring every good moment we shared. I hung onto every kind word. Every dimly lit morning, looking over at you before the alarm rang. Every disgustingly bitter craft coffee we shared. I hung onto our spur-of-the-moment dates, the kind where we spent hours and hundreds on trips and trinkets. I was fixated on even the smallest things, the most seemingly boring days. The kind where we ended up running errands and taking walks. I still remember throwing out some of my favorite shoes after walking aimlessly with you for hours and demolishing them in the process. It didn’t matter that I had ruined my favorite shoes. It mattered that it was with my favorite person. But, it sucks knowing I’ll never share another moment with you, even a negative one.

Honestly, though, the only day I truly miss is the day you told me you liked me. It was the only pure moment we had where our relationship was genuine. Our relationship had so many places to go and we had so much hope and care for each other. We just held each other and enjoyed each other’s presence, hoping everything would work out. We didn’t kiss. We didn’t have sex. We didn’t lie, cheat, yell,  argue or anything. We just basked in all the potential that the future held.

I want that moment back. I want[ed] you back. But I now know– the “you” that I miss is an idealized version that I have romanticized in my head. The constant lies and betrayals came just as fast as your hasty confession of your feelings toward me. The “you” who told me he was intoxicated by my presence was quickly overshadowed by the man who hurt me for the entirety of our relationship.

I’ll still never understand how someone who claimed to care for me so deeply could also hurt me even deeper. And I’ve spent countless hours since we broke up trying to rationalize why you did any of it. But I have come to realize that no matter how much thinking I do, I’ll never get it.

I’m sorry for reacting the way I did when I found everything out. I definitely don't believe your lies nor do I excuse any of your actions. But you and I both know that all I did was tell people the truth about everything you did to me, even if I went overboard with my delivery.

I just wish so badly it never happened. I don’t know what I’m even referring to when I say that, maybe the whole relationship, maybe just some things you did. But mainly, I hate that I can’t hate you fully. Hence my apology. Even if you were awful to me sometimes it doesn’t grant me the right to treat you poorly as well. Knowing we’ll never talk again just means I’ll never understand your motivations. But I’ll just have to get over that, along with you.

All I wanted was to be loved and cared for. I just wanted someone to hold me and love me and be sweet to me. I wanted kindness and compassion. I wanted care. For some reason, me being naive and inexperienced didn’t mean that I was to be handled gently but a signal that I could be taken advantage of, and you did that.

I think I realized that the person I miss the most is my best friend, not my boyfriend. Even if it was a version I made up in my head, I loved you. You were my default. My best friend. My boyfriend.

So even if it was long-winded and slightly convoluted, I hope my words mean something to you, or even that I meant something to you. I’m not even fully apologizing or expecting anything back. I’m not saying I forgive anything or you have to forgive anything. I’m just saying I’m sorry. I really do regret how I handled the situation. I’m sorry we couldn’t be friends. I’m sorry for letting my resentment guide my actions. I’m sorry. But I’m also sorry you don’t hold even half the same amount of regret that I do for the substantial damage you inflicted upon my now pessimistic view of love and relationships.

I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’ll never get the apology I’ve long been holding out for. And I’m content with that. How can someone who never cared in the first place apologize for wrongdoings they don’t even believe they did? But your adamant shirking of any responsibility does not mean I’m doomed to rationalize the actions of a misguided and manipulative individual. I was simply there. You wanted attention and ease. That’s that. I can live without your soulless “apology” tainted by ulterior motives and your great concern for optics over the hurt you’ve inflicted. 

I hope one day you can also look back and feel some form of regret or even express one ounce of being apologetic and empathetic towards another human being,  but I’m glad to say I’m no longer holding out for this day. The you that I loved never existed and I have begun mourning as such. In the end, I’m finally over you but I don’t know when I’ll ever be over everything you did to me.

Strike Out,

Writer: Krizia Figueroa

Edited by: Nina Rueda

Orlando