Mr B,
Always know you are the love of my life, my first and last thought of everyday and the reason I am the mellowed down - softer - slightly kinder version of me.
But you are also the cyanide I drip into my veins in tiny doses. Not enough to kill me quite at once, but sufficient amounts to cause irreparable damage. Never enough to show scars on the outside but nevertheless slowly decaying me on the inside.
I have tried everything I have been advised to do... Go on dates - tick, be alone - tick, talk about it - tick, don't mention it - tick, give someone else a chance - sort of tick, try and focus on something else - tick, be unkind to him - okay 6 out of 7's not bad, right?
I know you are back with her now. Not a lot can be kept quiet where we are! And that is okay. I admit I had to sit down the first time I found out but over the next few days with time to understand and you nowhere to be seen I dealt with it. Truth is, since the holidays I have started to heal. I really feel stronger than ever before. My biggest fear however is that the day is coming nearer and nearer when I finally have to see you. Hear your voice. Watch your movements. Smell that all too familiar scent. And I know these weeks of healing will in one swoop be demolished. They will come crashing down the same way my entire mood came crashing down today when you messaged saying you were going to send me an email. About 'life' you said.
Truth is I don't feel brave enough to read anything else that has the potential to up my daily dose of fear, sadness and loneliness. I need you to understand that I am so scarred, tatty and broken inside that I honestly don't know how much more I will be able to take. Surely every heart has a limit to how many burdens it can carry?
It took me a very long time to realise how you were like a drug for me - very intoxicating, appealing, something I felt I couldn't live without. But nevertheless, apallingly bad for me. Inviting me in, making me dependant on you. Knowing all the while, you were shackling me. Restricting me. Keeping me on an elastic rope.. letting me go a little before pulling me back in.
I am done Mr B. I am done with feeling sad. Done with feeling like I might never move on. I want me back. The loud, 'boisterous', funny me who walks tall and never cries. My five year spell won't be a patch on what I achieve this time round!
I love you with all my heart Mr B and I probably always will. Sitting in my rocking chair at 87, I'm sure I will smile as I remember the long gone days we spent together. The shortest of seasons in my life, but one of the most influential. I will then get up and walk over to the man who loved me through everything you put me through. Loved me when I was a mess, who didn't let anyone in. Won me over and gave me the life I had but imagined once with you.
Good luck to you. You ever need me? Just shout - I will always be there like I was before. Just not like I was before. Thank you for the lessons... I will take each one and use them to move forward. Because I will. Move forward that is.
So whatever it is you write in the email you are about to press 'send' on any minute now, I pray to God I have the strength to read it, the grace to respond kindly and the courage to not let it affect me or my healing.
With all my love from the bottom of my tatty, shattered, wrapped up in tape, glued back together, once was all yours, heart.
Your Messerschmitt.
