I miss you so much, and it’s literally driving me crazy that I can’t even tell you I miss you on facebook or through a text message. I’m sorry if doing so would seem disrespectful, because that wouldn’t be my intention, but the void I feel because you are no longer in my life is so huge that I wouldn’t be able to help myself. I still don’t always know if I’ll be able to help myself for the duration of the restraining order. I don’t know if you meant it when you said that you never want to talk to me again, but I find myself constantly hoping that you didn’t.
I’ve created this fantasy scenario in which I see you sitting in your apartment by yourself and you realized that you miss me and change your mind. Or maybe you are at an evening get together with all of your friends who are in relationships and you miss us together. Or maybe you go to a movie and you miss going to movies with me. Even if it takes you dating, I fantasize that after a few awkward dates you will miss me and change your mind. And I would take you back in a heartbeat if that ever happened. But I am trying to be realistic, and in the real world you will probably sign up for eHarmony or something, and you will meet someone who you fall for really quickly within a few months. Maybe it will even be the first person you are matched with. However long it takes you will probably look back on us with some sadness, but also with a great deal of relief that you no longer have to deal with me and my crankiness and my moodiness.
I realize when I look back on our last couple of months together that I must have come seemed incredibly lazy, boring, and apathetic to you. I spent hours each night watching stupid and mindless television, after which I would come to bed at midnight or later. I should have been going to bed at the same time as you, and if I could go back and switch off the TV completely I would. Instead, I would come to bed early to be with you, where we could read together, have more sex, cuddle more, and just spend more quality time together. Maybe then we could have built up our love credits through more affection and physical time together, and then you would have felt better about me and about the relationship. You would have trusted me more. Maybe then you wouldn’t have left. I kick myself about that everyday, and I wish I could change it. If I was ever given a second chance with you I would change it.
But I won’t ever get a second chance with you. I won’t even have a chance to talk to you again. And that’s the very hardest part of this situation. Our final moments together are forever going to be tainted by my scary and irrational actions on that night. You must think I’m a total creepo or a psycho. I wish I could go back to that night and do everything differently with every fiber of my being. Instead of trying to guilt you with talk of suicide, I would let you hold me on the couch and be nice to me like you were trying to do. We could have watched some more episodes of Louis, or lay in bed together, and we would have been able to hang out on Saturday, maybe Friday as well, and we would have been able to do our Christmas together as well. A major part of why my Christmas was awful, besides that fact that I knew I wouldn’t ever be able to share it with you again, was because of the fact that we never had a chance to have our little Christmas farewell, and we didn’t have that chance because of me.
I’m so sorry. I feel a giant void in my chest and stomach almost constantly, and when I don’t feel a void, I feel a tightness there instead. I wish I could do so many things differently. But I can’t. And I’m sorry it took me losing you to see how wrong I was about so many things.