Dear ex,
I wish you didn't battle with depression and anxiety and all the many other things that created the monster that consumed you.
I still love some small fragment of you that may never have existed beyond my illusory projections. I'm still sad that you are incapable of returning love in the same way. If you were a caring person I would tell you the truth. I love you. I miss you. I wish a million times that we were possible. I wish everything was different. I wish I could be emotionally vulnerable with you. I wish I could cry or feel without hearing your abuse in my head, implying weakness, losing your temper with my tears. Tears, hugs, sex, often offended you. Well, what didn't?
You don't understand a million things, and it saddens me. You don't understand me either.
I had a couple foggy half-remembered dreams about you. I think each time you returned, trying to talk to me, trying to apologize or come to some sort of arrangement that would enable us to work. I think last night you proposed that we could talk and be emotional support for each other without sex. I argued 'what the fuck would I get out of that?' You tried to persuade me but the floor was littered with debris, and I thought your argument was stupid. In both dreams I was annoyed that you even showed up.
The next dream had nothing to do with you. I saw a beautiful view with brightly colored lakes and a pool. I dove into the pool and plummeted straight down about 14 feet deep. I was scared and swam upward as fast as I could back to the surface, relieved not to have drowned. I got out of the water and had dessert with a wealthy Italian family by their pool. They cut a cake into the shape of a tree...
4:11 p.m. - 2013-08-24