Dave, You'll never read this

Part One:
The Break

Dave,
March, 2011
Do I want to be with you? God, who would have thought that question, would be so hard to answer. My gut reaction is yes, the rest of me? Not feeling my gut. I want to be with you right now. Sitting here crying my eyes out over you I find myself going ‘maybe Dave can help me figure this out.’ I find it almost funny cause when you first asked me out I was so excited, and the first person I wanted to tell was you.
I do want to salvage this relationship. I think the first step to salvage is starting new, first date and everything. Maybe even going back to when we were just talking online again. However, we cannot get back to this point while your living situation is as it stands.
You tell me that your family has made all these sacrifices to have me living there, yet all the while the only person in your family who made me feel any sense of being welcome was Becca. You ridicule me for being mean to them but I often felt that they were rude to me. (Whether this is true or not, isn’t the point. I’m just saying how I feel)

November 16, 2011
And now I’m back to this document so many months later. Self-torturer that I am I continue to look at your Facebook page and see how happy you seem with her and want to just… crawl into a hole for a year. Or longer. Probably longer. I keep asking myself why I can’t move on. You hurt me so much I should hate you but I can’t. Maybe it’s because you were my first love and no one else yet has given me that special… tickle in my stomach. I’m not even discussing lust. Just that warm feeling that starts in my guts and just spreads out making me want to smile. I lied to you Dave, when I said I was happy most of the time. I lied because I couldn’t stand the thought of you knowing how miserable I am. Because I’m sure if you did, you wouldn’t speak to me and I’m selfish…
And here is the only place I could ever be honest. Here pretending to be talking to you, because I’m pretty sure only my imaginary version of you will ever come close to soothing the gaping hole that’s left in my chest. So many things that I want to ask you to your face and wish I knew whether or not I was getting an honest answer. Are you really truly happy? Do you ever think like this about me? Do you ever creep my Facebook and hope that there’s something there saying how much I miss you?
Do you ever cry for me?
I think about you constantly and part of me can’t remember why it ended so horribly even though I know. I know it was because you weren’t the person who I first said I love you to. And I wasn’t that person who said I love you. We aren’t the people we fell in love with, or even the people who fell in love. Life and death and lost souls haunt me and pulled me away, because I let them, but pulled me away none the less. I couldn’t begin to say what happened to you. But I pushed you away as much as I pulled myself. I hurt you, then you hurt me and I wanted to hurt you more. I said horrible things… god am I ever sorry. What is wrong with me…?

November 20, 2011
Another day where I’m so tempted to call you. Call you and beg you… But I won’t. At the very least I won’t beg to be taken back. I’m hurt and wounded and deserve better. I deserve someone who can at the very least accept my temper and understand that it’s part of me. Someone who realizes that their family isn’t going to be perfect in my eyes no matter how great they are. I deserve at the very least, someone who would give me that chance after I tried… god did I ever try. How appropriate that you had me start to fall for you at a musical I was in and completed my heart break in the same way. Bringing her to Charlie Brown? Do you have any idea the knife that sliced through me when you came in? I wanted to just… walk off stage. It felt so wrong to have her there. And I know Becca invited her but you could have said something. Anything. But you probably didn’t know that I was on the brink of tears while singing those songs. That as I sang of happiness I wanted to die. That I wanted to scream at you and hurt you again and again.
What is wrong with me? Back here, crying again. I can’t even remember when you left me but the wound opens up like it was yesterday. The idea of you being with her is gnawing at my gut. I don’t want you happy. Selfish bitch that I am, I want you, as self-hating as I am. That isn’t true of course. The sane part of me wants you to be horribly happy. It wants you to have someone who makes you feel good. I did that once. It seems so long ago that you were happy with me. When did I become this person? This horrible person who wishes you ill. Because the truth is, I would gladly push Kelsey in front of a bus.
I still make decisions based on what I think would make you happier. It’s sick really, the hold you have on me. I don’t know what to do about it. I’m letting myself be miserable. I can usually go most of the day looking happy, but there comes a point every day where I want to crawl into a hole. I just want everyone to go away because I’ve thought of something you said or did and I want to cry because I’m still lacking this fundamental part of my soul that you still haven’t released your hold on.
Look at me trying to put poetry to how I’m feeling. Next I’ll start painting or something stupid like that.
I hope you end up alone. Not forever, nothing malicious like that. I just hope you get a taste of being alone because you should know what it’s like. I think you don’t let yourself be alone and that’s just not healthy. Granted with how I’m feeling right now I can’t say much for being alone, that which does not kill me… I hope this does not kill me. Who knows? It still could, now that I’m actually letting myself work through my feelings. I was never as strong as you seemed to think.

November 25, 2011
Another bad day for me. They’re starting to outweigh the good days. I creeped your Facebook. That’s like, the one thing guaranteed to make me miss you terribly. I was doing pretty well. Living a life that wasn’t dependent on anyone for me to be happy. For a few days I forgot that I missed you. That’s not completely true. I almost forgot that I missed you. For hours on end I can completely forget. Not for a whole day. Not yet. I’m tempted every night to do something stupid, like invite you to something. Especially if I can pull off not inviting Kelsey. I’m bitter. Is that so wrong? I honestly think it’s a perfectly legitimate thing; being bitter. You’re probably bitter too. I doubt it’s for the same reasons but you’ve still probably got some bitterness there. I was a douche.
I wonder what you would say if I called you. I’m sure nothing I would want to hear, which is why I won’t call you. But I do want to apologize for… for me. That’s just selfish but there you have it. I want to talk to you so that I can say I’m sorry. Talk to you without anyone there but I know me. I’d do something stupid like try to kiss you. I’m not very bright sometimes.
For now, I’ll just have to keep doing what I’m doing. Surviving. At least it’s something. I’m sure I’ll move on soon enough, to some degree. You were my first after all. That wound will always be there. And even years from now I’ll look at that wound and it will feel fresh. Just like it did all those months ago. You know I can’t even remember when we broke up. Hell, it still seems almost like we haven’t finished. You still have so much of me…
I am starting to see a pattern. Since I decided to do this I seem to be going in five day rounds. I write, I feel slightly better, I buck up, I do better, and then I do something or hear something that gets me in a rut again so I write. Yay me.
I still cry.
Is that bad? I have no idea who to ask, So many people have gone through something like this but… no I really don’t know who I could talk to. Every heart break is different to some extent even if the stories seem similar. This would have been our fifth anniversary. Crazy, right? You probably don’t think about these things like I do. You were awful with numbers. Numbers are all I have. Four years. Three of my birthdays, four Christmas’, four of your birthdays, 16 years old when we met. I mean that right there kind of indicates this wasn’t meant to last; so few people stay with their high school sweetheart. I just always hoped we would be the exception.
Fuck, I don’t know what I’m doing with this. Writing things out to you, as if you’ll read them. Seeking some kind of solace for myself. Maybe that will end up being the stupid thing I do. Send you this bullshit so you know. That would be fucking stupid, but I’m not winning any awards right now for brains.

December 6, 2011
I’ve met someone. Someone sweet, who reads and is… He’s great. I think I’m actually moving on, at the very least I’ve addressed the feelings I’m going through. Dave… I can honestly say that I’m not going to be writing this to you anymore. I’m ready to close this chapter and move on with a new one. I just wish Kelsey wouldn’t talk shit about me to my classmates. But really her gossip is just oral masturbation for a mouth with nothing better to do. Kiss her well. Kiss her often. I say as if I would actually give this to you… oh well.