When I'd always ask if he was okay, even though he said he was, there was usually a good chance that he was being a jerk, and I'd have stopped asking if he was okay if he would have just knocked it off.
I've been a good person and haven't gone out of my way to be shitty to him or talk shit about him. I have no qualms with the call to end our relationship. It's what he wanted and what I needed to do after the way we had both been treating each other.
He's been communicating with me on a semi-regular basis, mostly due to his homesickness. I'm under no assumption that our communication will continue when he gets back home where he will feel more comfortable and safe. I'm not going to sugarcoat the fact that I am a temporary crutch.
I've tried cheering him up, letting him know that he'll soon be back in a familiar city. I've reminded him that while he thinks he's utterly alone, he still has friends he isn't acknowledging. They still care. I still care.
I spent most of the time in our relationship caught in his catch-22's. He was unhappy when I was with him because I was with him too much. He was unhappy when I wasn't with him because he was alone. He was unhappy when I didn't talk about my problems. He was unhappy when he heard my problems. I recognise that I'm not the root of his unhappiness, but it upset me to know that I was a cause. Especially because I spent so much effort, even when our relationship ceased, to cheer him up. Even at the desertion of my own happiness.
I have to make choice on his behalf, because I know he won't be entirely honest with himself or with me. Would he be happier without me if I wasn't a constant facet of his life? I don't know if I'd use the word happy, but it would certainly be easier for him. He is already looking for another girl to fill the empty slot that was me, and I'm nothing but an annoyance and distraction. I'm so distracting that he thinks he needs me in his life to some extent. He'll never admit it, but I could potentially ruin what may be beautiful friendships and relationships with much more attractive, nice ladies. I'm indirectly a life ruiner.
And in the front of my mind, reverberating off of my skull, I keep asking myself, "Why not just say fuck it? Thank goddamn he's someone else's problem now." His emotional roller coasters were so much to support and deal with when I had my own problems, including but not limited to family deaths, monetary problems, work problems, health, friendship issues. How was it fair for him to act depressed and mope around almost all the time? Why did I even bother putting his happiness before mine, when he rarely returned the same courtesy?
Every relationship has physically altered me in some way. I have a fading scar on my left hand, from where I foolishly tested his knife's sharpness. A faint reminder of him, though with some microderm lotion it'll be gone.
I've always done goodbyes, this should be easier. I'm going a good thing. Right?
love, Leah
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