You in The grotesque metamorphosis of a Bi-Polar human into a Tri-polar monster.

I think I’ve finally admitted to myself that YOU are not something I should be holding on to anymore…and does that mean I’m going to do anything about it?

I don’t know?

I might just hold on to you until you cripple me completely…I have no idea yet…maybe I want you to be the thing that finally kills me.
I feel like being murdered by you would be better than dying alone.
I honestly feel that way.

I…don’t…know…if you would give me that mercy.

Sometimes, I think you want me to live forever, and just reflect on my mistakes, and carry the weight of this pain with me until I walk into the ocean, drag my feet across the ocean floor, this guilt my anchor, cursed to walk in the only place we were never meant to exist.

I can’t believe you, though.

I can’t believe you cheated on both of them with me.
Do either of them know?

Do they know how you still contact me once every three months to tell me how much you hate me....and after about an hour of talking, you ultimately tell me how much you still love me…and then pepper it with “But I will never forgive you.”

Do you even know how much you put on me?
How much of the shit your father did to you…and your mother…and you put that on me?

You told my mom you were diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder…but you never mentioned it to me…

IT HAS BEEN FIFTEEN FUCKING YEARS NOW AND YOU HAVE NEVER MENTIONED THAT TO ME!

It’s almost like our sick relationship wasn’t entirely my fault because we were both sick…it’s almost like that…holy shit it’s almost fucking like that.

It’s almost like you introduced me to some weird drugs that I would have never done if it wasn’t for you…but I’m still the wolf and you are still the victim.

Remember how every time we would get cocaine, you were the one that wanted to rock it up and smoke it?

I bet you don’t.
I bet it doesn’t fit your narrative.

You’re happy now…right?
With your husband and your child.
You’re so happy.
You’re so fucking happy that you hit me up on IG telling me how your marriage is falling apart, and it’s all MY fault…and even though you hate me and will never forgive me and your marriage is falling apart you still tell me you will always love me.

You tell your friends (who talk to me) that you still care about me…and they can’t date me because I still belong to you (Yeah, I heard that one too).

My favorite moment was when you told me you didn’t curse me…but if you had known then what you know now about black magick, you would have.

And I called bullshit, because I KNOW FOR A FUCKING FACT YOU CURSED ME BITCH!
I KNOW YOU DID!
DO YOU EVEN KNOW HOW MANY SPELLS I HAD TO CAST TO UNDO THAT SHit?
i DON’T EVEN THINK I UNDID THEM ALL!

I still feel cursed.
I still dream about you at least 3 nights a week…every week.
And you have the nerve to hit me up to ask me what I just dreamed about because you want to know if I am a psychic vampire that is trying to ruin your life through your dreams?
Fuck you.

The most fucked up thing about it is how beautiful I still think you are…and how I still feel like you’re the only person who ever actually understood me…and you were the only person who came close to accepting me for exactly what I am…the monster that I am…the beast…the abomination that I was born into this world as…you made me feel like it was okay and you still loved me…like we were some Beauty and The Beast shit…some Phantom Of The Opera shit.

I hate you so much.
I love you so much.

I had so many dreams about our daughter…and you had dreams about her too.
And you miscarried her.
And you blamed it on me.

Now you have a son…good for you.
I’m happy for you.

I can’t imagine being with you with that little boy who’s half created of half the man I am.
He’s blonde.

Our little baby, Aye…she would have been so dark.
Dark, beautiful hair.
Big, dark, beautiful eyes.
The most infectious smile.

She would have been an artist…a fucking genius.

God dammit I hate you so much right now.

I’ve been told I need to block you…but I keep waiting to hear from you.
And I stalk your IG ever since I found out you stalk mine after my last hospital visit…actually, you’ve probably been stalking mine since way before that.

I wish you would tell your husband you cheated on him with me.
Stop acting like such a saint.

I know you better than you know yourself…do you know that?

I believe you know me better than I know myself.
Do you know that?

I can never be with anyone else because I always compare them to you.
Did you know that?

I can never be with anyone else because I haven’t ever let you go.
…you know that.

…

I don’t want to talk about you anymore.

I guess this felt good.

I wish you weren’t still friends with so many of my friends.
I wish we would have never met.

…I wish we would have just gotten married and you wouldn’t have cheated on me and been so abusive so we could have just been fucking happy…because you’re not happy, and I’m not happy…it’s just some sick joke.

Being engaged to you was one of the best decisions I ever made.

Leaving you was one of the best decisions I ever made.

…

Anyway…

This wasn’t about you.
It was about her.
I needed to write to her.
Thanks for listening.
Sorry we’ve had such a rough patch lately.
It’s my fault.
I’ve been drinking too much, smoking too much, isolating too much.
Thank god I have the dog here with me.
-Dane