Letter to Who I Hate or Has Hurt Me The Most

Dear D.C.,

As much as I cannot stand some people, I don’t “hate” anyone. To hate a person, in my opinion, is to make yourself their emotional prisoner, and I won’t give anyone that type of power over me, as to make me feel that level of contempt. There have been moments, immediately following an incident, where I have been so on fire with somebody that in that moment, I almost do feel like I hate them, but you’d never be able to pull the same passion out of me, outside of that moment, and I surely wouldn’t care enough after the fact to be able to write a letter about it. It takes longer in some cases than in others, but I always manage to let go of that energy, for my own sake.

But I have an assignment to do, so this letter is for you.

It will surprise some people that I didn’t address this letter to my [capital] EX, if they know our story. I’ve said several times that he hurt me more than anyone ever had – not because he violated our relationship, but because he violated our friendship, and he did things that I would never have done to him. But over the last couple of years, I have come to the conclusion that as much as he hurt me, you actually did the most damage.

You were my first “real” boyfriend; my first relationship that lasted more than six months and didn’t exist solely over the telephone LOL. You were my first boyfriend to actually be introduced to my family as such, who I actually went out on dates with, laid on the couch, watching movies with and spewed “I love you” back and forth with. My first adult relationship. And it was good, while it lasted. Really good. You were so “together” – came from a good family, dressed nice, had a job, went to a good school and was going places. It was the first time in my life I actually thought I wanted to marry someone, even if, in retrospect, it was for the wrong reasons.

You went off to school and despite your heartfelt letters and “cant wait to get home’s” you decided, when you returned, that you didn’t know how to be my boyfriend anymore, only rather than just saying that, you lied. The lie you told was ten times worse – making me believe that you were forced to choose between me and the friendship you had maintained with your ex-girlfriend…. the ex-girlfriend who called a little too frequently and had a propensity for just intuitively showing up at places we were at… (mmhmm)... the ex-girlfriend who your mother lauded, prom picture still up on the mantle…..? Yeah, that reason was MUCH better. Then to add insult to injury, you broke up with me at, what was then, my favorite place in the entire world – the one place I went to for solace and a quiet space to write or just be. “I thought since it was your favorite place, it might be a little easier for you.” Really? That was some cold shit.

While it was my first “real” heartbreak, and I cried my eyes out for about a week, I eventually got on with my life, and this wasn’t the reason you are the recipient of this letter today. I chose you because I came to realize, a couple of years ago, that you broke me, and eleven years later, I was still cleaning up the mess you made.

Though I probably would have gotten with my EX eventually anyway, I got with him too soon after the mess with you, never really taking the time I should have to process and get over it, rather than just getting past it. Seven years later, after he and I split and I was finally ready to be back out on the scene, I felt like the Manchurian candidate. It was like someone had implanted a chip in my brain that made me do things I wouldn’t normally do and date people I would normally never give the time of day to, and you know what? That shit lasted for about five years before I realized that I was dating the same guy over and over again – the guy as far away from “you” as I could get. “You” was what I really wanted and what I really needed, but “you” hurt me, so, pain still riddling my subconscious mind, I went all the way to the other extreme; the “anti-you”. It was the biggest “a-ha!” moment of my life! When I brought it to the attention of the one person who knew me both before and after that time in my life, I saw the light bulb go on over their head too. “Yo, that is sooooo true!” I know.

It seemed a little crazy that something as rudimentary as a break up would have such an impact on my life all those years later, but the more I thought and analyzed myself, the more I knew it had, and when the dreams started up and wouldn’t stop, I knew it wasn’t enough to just acknowledge it. I had to confront it.

So I set out to find you, and I did – not nearly as awkward a phone conversation as I expected. In fact, two calls later, you apologized for breaking my heart the way you did, and explained that you had been struggling to exorcise your own demons. Strangely enough, it sounded like I had been a casualty of someone else having previously mishandled your affections. Funny how that works.

I made plans to see you, in an effort to quash whatever there was still inside me, and when it was all said and done, it was all I really needed to do. I needed to see you and say everything I felt, or thought I felt, and just purge myself of all emotional residue and then maybe, just maybe, I could get my life back. And you know what? I did. It wasn’t immediate – quite honestly, I didnt see anyone for a long time after that because I still didn’t trust myself – but that was a decision I would never have made before…. to pull myself clean off the market, not just as a break from the frustration of the pissed-in pool, but to channel my self-imposed agony into something productive on a personal level. You were still so “together,” dressed nice, had a good job and a shiny black car with Greek letters on the license plate, still going places. But I was free and ready to go some places of my own.

So thank you for being the catalyst of a series of events that effectually changed my life…… again. The irony of it all is that for a while there, I thought I might still be in love with you, but in the end, I was only ever in love with who I thought you were. I licked my wounds, and this time, I didn’t just get past it, I got over it. And you know what? I think Im gonna be alright.

Forever, Dig.