Dear C (A letter to my boyfriend’s ex)
Dear C,
I don’t like you. In fact I might venture so far as to say I revoke the ‘dear’ at the beginning of this letter because that is the last word I would use to describe you. You are not dear, you are not kind, and you are far too selfish to earn such a sweet address.
When I met this family, they revealed the wake of your destruction slowly but surely. Oh yes, I saw it all. It wasn’t just T you wounded, I saw the scars you left on everyone. I saw the wreckage in flames all around. When I met this family I began in a deficit. I moved slowly and carefully around the jagged edges you left behind, used gentle hands to help pick up the shrapnel.
I was angry, livid that a human being could do this. Could turn on such a beautiful family with a thousand excuses and no reasons. That you could do this to them out of your own selfishness and pain. Maybe that’s the Witch in me, holding on to personal accountability, but I believe that past trauma doesn’t justify terrible behavior. You did this to them, you made them suffer.
It took a while for the story to be pieced together. Pieces here and there. Sometimes I’d brush up against a feeling you left behind and then be told why it was there. Sometimes I’d just ask. There were pieces of you everywhere. Pieces of your memory. They took your picture off the fridge, but not the picture of the picture. You’ve even gotten your memory sludge on my birth month.
I will probably spend a very long time cleaning up this mess you left behind. The edges are smoother now, but they don’t just go away. They will not ever be perfect again, no matter how gently I sand them and how much time I put into helping them heal. You owed them better than this, and you failed.
And I will take this up, I will help clean up the scorch marks and the damage not because I want the glory, but because these are human beings you have leveled. These are people I love, this is a family I can love. You saw a means to your end, warm bodies to fill a need you couldn’t be honest about. I could forgive you getting tangled up in your feelings, they make everything so messy. But the way you handled that? The way you burned the bridge I’ve been trying to cross ever since? Believe me when I very sincerely say from the bottom of my heart “FUCK YOU”.
We have one job in this world. One stupid job. Leave it better than we found it. You left it worse. You hurt people with no thought to their feelings and no care to help them when you said you loved them. This isn’t love. Love doesn’t leave scars. Love doesn’t use people up and throw them away. Love doesn’t do this.
They deserved so much more than what you gave them. She deserved so much more than what you gave her. You never deserved them. And now they are mine in a way you can’t understand. I don’t own them, I don’t use them, and I won’t leave them. I won’t wreak havoc and infect their lives with pain like you did.
So thank you. Thank you for teaching them hard lessons. Thank you for bruising their hearts so I might be able to teach them that even bruised hearts can heal. Thank you for reminding me that I can start deep in the red and still help turn things around. I have always been the dark horse, coming up from behind. You had just better hope it’s never again behind you or you’ll see just how dark I can get.
I wanted to end this on some positive note. Wish you the best in life and hope you grow the hell up. But I’m not that good of a woman. The only thing coming from me for you is a good old fashioned square up, and if you’re smart you’ll think twice about anything you ever say to any of them again.
Karma is a bitch,
J
I don’t like you. In fact I might venture so far as to say I revoke the ‘dear’ at the beginning of this letter because that is the last word I would use to describe you. You are not dear, you are not kind, and you are far too selfish to earn such a sweet address.
When I met this family, they revealed the wake of your destruction slowly but surely. Oh yes, I saw it all. It wasn’t just T you wounded, I saw the scars you left on everyone. I saw the wreckage in flames all around. When I met this family I began in a deficit. I moved slowly and carefully around the jagged edges you left behind, used gentle hands to help pick up the shrapnel.
I was angry, livid that a human being could do this. Could turn on such a beautiful family with a thousand excuses and no reasons. That you could do this to them out of your own selfishness and pain. Maybe that’s the Witch in me, holding on to personal accountability, but I believe that past trauma doesn’t justify terrible behavior. You did this to them, you made them suffer.
It took a while for the story to be pieced together. Pieces here and there. Sometimes I’d brush up against a feeling you left behind and then be told why it was there. Sometimes I’d just ask. There were pieces of you everywhere. Pieces of your memory. They took your picture off the fridge, but not the picture of the picture. You’ve even gotten your memory sludge on my birth month.
I will probably spend a very long time cleaning up this mess you left behind. The edges are smoother now, but they don’t just go away. They will not ever be perfect again, no matter how gently I sand them and how much time I put into helping them heal. You owed them better than this, and you failed.
And I will take this up, I will help clean up the scorch marks and the damage not because I want the glory, but because these are human beings you have leveled. These are people I love, this is a family I can love. You saw a means to your end, warm bodies to fill a need you couldn’t be honest about. I could forgive you getting tangled up in your feelings, they make everything so messy. But the way you handled that? The way you burned the bridge I’ve been trying to cross ever since? Believe me when I very sincerely say from the bottom of my heart “FUCK YOU”.
We have one job in this world. One stupid job. Leave it better than we found it. You left it worse. You hurt people with no thought to their feelings and no care to help them when you said you loved them. This isn’t love. Love doesn’t leave scars. Love doesn’t use people up and throw them away. Love doesn’t do this.
They deserved so much more than what you gave them. She deserved so much more than what you gave her. You never deserved them. And now they are mine in a way you can’t understand. I don’t own them, I don’t use them, and I won’t leave them. I won’t wreak havoc and infect their lives with pain like you did.
So thank you. Thank you for teaching them hard lessons. Thank you for bruising their hearts so I might be able to teach them that even bruised hearts can heal. Thank you for reminding me that I can start deep in the red and still help turn things around. I have always been the dark horse, coming up from behind. You had just better hope it’s never again behind you or you’ll see just how dark I can get.
I wanted to end this on some positive note. Wish you the best in life and hope you grow the hell up. But I’m not that good of a woman. The only thing coming from me for you is a good old fashioned square up, and if you’re smart you’ll think twice about anything you ever say to any of them again.
Karma is a bitch,
J
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