Hey Turkey Legs,

Do you miss me at all?  I can’t help but feel like you don’t miss me, and that you’re glad to be rid of me.  I can’t help but feel like a big part of you is happy to have me out of your life, especially after reading in the police report about how quickly and happily you provided the police with far more information than was necessary to take me to the hospital for being suicidal?  Why did you give them permission to search the apartment, give them such a thorough written statement, and sign so many forms so willingly?  It feels a lot like you wanted me to go to jail, and that you are happy you have a restraining order against me so that you will never have to talk to me again.  I’m not sure if you are aware of the implications of these charges for me in the future, or of how badly they will limit my future options, but if you are, then you just don’t care.  I am unable to leave the state until all this is done, which will probably take about a year and half.  This includes leaving the state to attend graduate school.  I’m not allowed to do that, even though I have already been accepted into one program. 

Since the last time I saw you, I can’t stop reliving all of the things that I wish I could fix and do differently.  I wish I could have the opportunity to be more affectionate with you, and less critical about stupid things.  I still haven’t accepted in my heart that I won’t have this opportunity, and I keep trying to imagine scenarios where this can happen. But even though my heart wants another chance and hopes for one, my head knows that you will never give me that chance. I’ll be lucky to even have the chance to talk to you again.  I’m struggling the most with figuring out where it all went wrong so quickly.  Was it because you found that message to Sarah?  Was it because of your visit to your family?  I know we had some issues that we fought over repeatedly, and that we needed to work on, but none of them seemed like deal breakers to me.  I thought that you were happy with me, and that even though we had issues that we needed to work on, our relationship was still strong and healthy.  I really wish you would have told me sooner, in counseling or in conversation, that you were so unhappy, so that I could have realized the severity of my need to change while I still had time to do so.  More than anything though, I wish I would have been more accepting of your relationship with your family, and that I would have realized that it wasn’t weird or co-dependent or anything, it was just different from mine, and that most other women have a similar relationship.

When I look at pictures of you lately (it’s my only way of having contact with you these days) I realize just how breathtakingly beautiful you are, and I feel so stupid for not telling you that more often.  You didn’t even want to hear it that much, and I should have been shouting it from the rooftops every day. But I’m stupid, and I didn’t, and now I can see you amazing smile and the sparkle in your eyes, your gorgeous hair and your perfect face, for the rarities that they are, and I can’t believe I lost you by being such a stubborn and self-centered jerk. I’m sorry.

I don’t blame you for what happened, but I do wish you had been less cooperative with the cops.  I hope to have the chance to lay that night to rest some day, even if you are done with me by that point.  But I also hope that as a few months pass, and you settle into a routine, that you miss the routines and traditions that you had with me so much that you change your mind.  It’s what I dream about every night, and it’s what gets me through the long days.

I love you, and I will always love you,


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