Another unsent letter to Grey

Grey

I have spent the past 24 hours fighting back tears and failing miserably. I am slowly starting to realize that I accept behaviour from you that I would not tolerate in mere acquaintances or even from close friends. Shouldn't I have higher standards for myself and my partner? I think that I should expect more of you than I would of my friends. Not less.

Today I deleted some people off my MSN because I decided they weren't important. It took several conversations with different girlfriends before I realized that I had given far too much weight to yesterday's unprovoked, unnecessary conversation about my break up with X. Who the hell was he to even bring up these issues, let alone criticize me for conduct which has no bearing on his life? I don't accept that from someone that I haven't seen in over a year. Why should I accept it from you? All those mornings that you made me cry over breakfast, I should have fought back for my pride and for my boundaries. Instead, I let you hack away at the little self-esteem I have built for myself in the past 4 years.

What for? I don't know why I subject myself to that sort of treatment. I strongly suspsect it is because of my mother. Because I was raised believing that I am unworthy and unlovable. I have no choice but to accept my mother's words, thoughts, behaviour. She is my mother and I am stuck with her forever. You, on the other hand, bring so little to the table in return for the tears. I don't know why you pick on me. What do you gain from those exchanges? Maybe you were raised to be harsh and critical, the way my mother raised me. I choose not to be that person. The person who spreads toxic blackness because she can't learn to feel happy. You said in December that I deserve better but I don't believe that you believe that. If you believed that, wouldn't you treat me better? So I choose not to accept it anymore.

I will have to find some way to live without the joy that I eked out during our brief times together. I will miss the solid hugs and the tight spoons. I will miss the kisses and the sound of your laughter. I will miss your hands and watching you cook. I will miss your old, grey nakedness, your beautiful apartment, your clean towels and the sight of you doing laundry or playing on your blackberry.

I have to believe that I am better off being miserable on my own. Until I can find someone who can make me happy and make me laugh. That maybe, somewhere out there, is a guy that is as great as you, who has all of your wonderful characteristics, but won't make me feel like a piece of foul, rotting garbage. Who won't yank me around, waffle with both our feelings, run scared because of the shadow of his history.

My whole life, I despaired of finding everything I wanted in a single individual. I had developed theories about relationships and marriage, about unrealistic expectations of women about their men, decided that love and being in love just wasn't enough. That it does take a village to generate enough love and compassion to sustain an individual. I think it is unlikely that I will meet anyone who I crave as much as I do you. I miss you with every single inch of my body. My soul aches with loneliness. The fear that I have found someone that might be The One. The One that loves me less.

But I would rather be alone. The agony and torment and torture and despair is too much for me to handle on a continuous basis. I put my head in my hands and pull my hair through my fingers and moan "make it stop, make it stop". The tears splash on my desk and I don't have the energy to wipe them off. To even get up and pick up the box of tissues next to my pillow.

Forgive me for giving up so easily. Last October, you implied that you wanted me to be around when you smartened up. But I don't have enough self-esteem to do this for 40 years.