One remaining draft is left in my drafts folder in Gmail. It's the breakup e-mail I was going to send, but didn't. The contents came out anyway in the discussions running up to and what formed the breakup.
I'm about to delete. Reading it.. I realise… that I'm moving on. I'm somewhere between moving on and moved on. I can think back to the day when I wrote it, the anguish I was in. That was me. Fully me. Unlike other episodes of my life, I can remember this one very well. It hasn't disappeared. It won't. I love her too much. The day will come when I will say,'I loved her too much.'
I've sanitised the e-mail to maintain privacy on details between me and her. This will be the last place, away from "me", where this e-mail exists. Update: I won't be posting the e-mail here. Even as I sanitised it, I realised it was still private; it still told exactly of what went wrong between us. And I'm not sure I want everyone to know. I'm content with people knowing it's over. But not details.. last night, I was feeling flippant, it seems.
I just had a strange exchange with her. She had indicated she wanted to talk again. So, I got ready and initiated serious contact on Saturday. Now, she's saying she's feeling raw and needs more time and distance.
I'm frustrated and put off. And I can't help but feel this is some game she's playing. She made the e-mail sound like I'm the one running after her, wanting to talk. How wrong you are. And she dares to say I was quiet and reserved on the phone. What do you expect?
I'm calling your bluff. I'm ending this unnecessary weirdicity. I won't be talking to you again, not now, not later. You want to talk? You come and find me. And you e-mail me. You run after me. And don't be surprised if I ignore you and never reply. Because I won't. Maybe not for months.
I'm sick of this back and forth, even as we're broken up. This power play you want to engage me in, you who said you want to be equal and not play power games.
I loved you so much. I'll never know how you work. I'll never understand how you can be who you are. In this exact moment, I hear Amy Winehouse belting out Back to Black in my mind and I see words driving past my eyes, words from your e-mails, iChats, and phone calls. It's like I'm headed for the dark town on the edge of my consciousness. Where our relationship now lives along with my other attempts for marriage and love that never materialised.
I'm so angry right now and all I want to do is call you up and yell at you. And return every dagger and every spear. And vomit bile and rage at you, like you did at me. Hurl you around, manhandle you with the carelessness and complacency you did to me. I want to exact revenge on you out of extreme hurt.
You'll always take me granted and think you'll find me conveniently at the end of a phone call, text, e-mail, or IM message. You won't.
You'll never find me again. Never. Never. Ever. I won't pick up the phone when it says Unknown. I won't answer messages or e-mails. I won't act on prompts from the common friends and acquaintances between us. I'll give you your wish and more. You wanted more communicative distance? I give freely and more than I sometimes have to give. I'll give you complete separation.
My love for you is turning into hate and resentment.
Bye, Mouse. The moment is here.