We need to talk.
I'm not mad at you. Quite the contrary. In truth, this is killing me to say. This hurts more than anything I've had to do. It's harder than that day I got on the bus to go to the airport in Seoul while my wife walked away sobbing.
But this has to be said. It just has to be.
I'm not mad at you. You were there for me when nobody else was. You were there for me when I couldn't function. You made life livable.
It was over ten years ago when we met. My life had completely fallen apart for what I count as the fifth time in as many years. Once again, I'd lost everything, everybody, and I was left on my own.
And I gave up.
I decided I was done with this shit. I was going to eat myself to death and just let whatever happened unfold around me. I'd lost all semblance of hope. It was suicide by indifference.
And then I got an idea. The Army talks about The Good Idea Fairy and how it visits soldiers, giving them horrible ideas that fuck up everything. Which could easily explain what happened.
I had an idea. I'm too smart for my own good sometimes and I figured out how to meet you.
That first meeting was magic. I was thrilled with myself for the first time in months because I solved a problem. Your warmth poured over me and you relieved me of things nothing else could. The burden I was carrying became tolerable.
So we danced.
We played. We sang. We traveled.
We survived.
And the years passed.
It started once every other week, maybe once a week. And then I got smart again. I had another great idea. I found ways to meet with you more and more.
And then it became daily. I'm not sure how quickly that happened but we went from being friends to something much closer.
Maybe we became one. At some place in our journey, it was a symbiotic relationship. But it wasn't toxic. Not in the least.
Because of you, I was able to work a soul-crushing job.
Because of you, I was able to accept that I was alone.
Because of you, I could deal with those buried memories suddenly popping up into the present after being triggered.
Because of you, I was perfectly fine eating myself to death.
And then I needed you more. We needed to be closer. I needed more and more. I experimented with different delivery systems and sources. I studied and applied my intelligence.
We became as close as we could. You were my refuge.
You were my shield and armor.
And then I OD'd.
It wasn't too serious of an overdose. I fought to keep from passing out, telling myself over and over, to just keep breathing.
But the hours leading up to that overdose were glorious. So incredibly glorious! I felt nothing. My head was unplugged and I wasn't a wreck. I didn't want to eat my pistol. I didn't want to walk in front of a train. I didn't want to scream until my throat bled. And on that night, as I drifted into sweet oblivion, I will admit that if I had not woken up the next morning I would have been okay with it.
Even now, I can say that. You could have taken me into death and I would not have been upset about it.
But that wasn't any kind of warning to me. I was so happy to know you and I could be so close. And to have that kind of numbness was a blessing. I loved you even more.
But cracks began to form in our relationship. It wasn't all rosey. You caused health problems that at times were incredibly painful. You tore me up in ways that might never heal. I have all kinds of issues because of you.
I didn't care for years about that, either, because you and I worked well together. Plus, I honestly thought I would be dead, before it became too serious of an issue.
And then I got worse. The depression and despair. Everything. I kept eating myself to death and it was working. I crossed some kind of point that wasn't quite The Point of No Return but it was a signpost telling me I was close.
My legs were covered in oozing sores. They were more than double their normal size. I lived on sweets and drank tons of soda pop. I was having issues with my blood pressure, sleep, and a long list of other problems. I was clearly on my way out and I didn't care.
And then something weird happened. Friends began telling me how important I was to them and how they didn't want to lose me. They said I had more to offer and I was somebody they would miss if I were gone. A couple of them cried as they told me this. That penetrated.
So I began to pull away from you. I didn't want to but I knew I had to. Life changed and I couldn't afford you anyways. I had to back off.
But your grip on me was tight. And you had dug deep into my bones. Just a little distance from you made me sick. Withdrawals.
I would wake up throwing up, soaked in sweat, shaking. Then, we'd dance, and I'd level out.
My doctor said I needed to slowly back away from you because to suddenly go cold turkey would probably put me in the hospital. The human body can only take so much and you had gotten into every single cell in my body.
So, I slowly backed off. I tapered. And for the last year I have been sick almost every single morning. Not a day has passed where I didn't deal with some kind of withdrawal symptom or a health problem caused by you.
But for a year, I pulled back bit by bit from you, until now. Right now, our daily contact is just a small fraction of what it used to be. A tiny amount. And I need to make the leap and sever this chain.
You need to let me go.
I'm sorry. You were good to me. But it's a half-life now and I cannot live like this anymore.
I had to make a choice. Do I live or do I die? I am giving life another chance and that cannot happen when you and I are together.
You need to let me go. Please.
It's time. It's long past time, really, but we've been taking it slow. But we're almost done and it's time for us to walk away from each other.
You need to loosen your grip on me and let me go. You're not killing me but with you I cannot live. Just the act of moving away from you has caused all kinds of horrible side effects. My emotions are everywhere. I'm constantly breaking down over little things. I can't think straight and I hardly ever leave my apartment anymore because of anxiety.
If I survive breaking away from you, it will be a monumental achievement in my life. I deserve another shot at life. I deserve another shot at being happy. I deserve to be able to go through life without having to numb myself up just so I can function.
I deserve a chance to live without being chained to you. I'm sorry but that's just how it is. I deserve better than this shit. I have never been able to say that until just recently. I have never in my life, ever, said "I deserve something good."
Now I can. And that changes everything.
It's time for you to loosen your grip on me and let me grow into the person I was always meant to be.
Thank you and Goodbye.
I'm not mad at you. Quite the contrary. In truth, this is killing me to say. This hurts more than anything I've had to do. It's harder than that day I got on the bus to go to the airport in Seoul while my wife walked away sobbing.
But this has to be said. It just has to be.
I'm not mad at you. You were there for me when nobody else was. You were there for me when I couldn't function. You made life livable.
It was over ten years ago when we met. My life had completely fallen apart for what I count as the fifth time in as many years. Once again, I'd lost everything, everybody, and I was left on my own.
And I gave up.
I decided I was done with this shit. I was going to eat myself to death and just let whatever happened unfold around me. I'd lost all semblance of hope. It was suicide by indifference.
And then I got an idea. The Army talks about The Good Idea Fairy and how it visits soldiers, giving them horrible ideas that fuck up everything. Which could easily explain what happened.
I had an idea. I'm too smart for my own good sometimes and I figured out how to meet you.
That first meeting was magic. I was thrilled with myself for the first time in months because I solved a problem. Your warmth poured over me and you relieved me of things nothing else could. The burden I was carrying became tolerable.
So we danced.
We played. We sang. We traveled.
We survived.
And the years passed.
It started once every other week, maybe once a week. And then I got smart again. I had another great idea. I found ways to meet with you more and more.
And then it became daily. I'm not sure how quickly that happened but we went from being friends to something much closer.
Maybe we became one. At some place in our journey, it was a symbiotic relationship. But it wasn't toxic. Not in the least.
Because of you, I was able to work a soul-crushing job.
Because of you, I was able to accept that I was alone.
Because of you, I could deal with those buried memories suddenly popping up into the present after being triggered.
Because of you, I was perfectly fine eating myself to death.
And then I needed you more. We needed to be closer. I needed more and more. I experimented with different delivery systems and sources. I studied and applied my intelligence.
We became as close as we could. You were my refuge.
You were my shield and armor.
And then I OD'd.
It wasn't too serious of an overdose. I fought to keep from passing out, telling myself over and over, to just keep breathing.
But the hours leading up to that overdose were glorious. So incredibly glorious! I felt nothing. My head was unplugged and I wasn't a wreck. I didn't want to eat my pistol. I didn't want to walk in front of a train. I didn't want to scream until my throat bled. And on that night, as I drifted into sweet oblivion, I will admit that if I had not woken up the next morning I would have been okay with it.
Even now, I can say that. You could have taken me into death and I would not have been upset about it.
But that wasn't any kind of warning to me. I was so happy to know you and I could be so close. And to have that kind of numbness was a blessing. I loved you even more.
But cracks began to form in our relationship. It wasn't all rosey. You caused health problems that at times were incredibly painful. You tore me up in ways that might never heal. I have all kinds of issues because of you.
I didn't care for years about that, either, because you and I worked well together. Plus, I honestly thought I would be dead, before it became too serious of an issue.
And then I got worse. The depression and despair. Everything. I kept eating myself to death and it was working. I crossed some kind of point that wasn't quite The Point of No Return but it was a signpost telling me I was close.
My legs were covered in oozing sores. They were more than double their normal size. I lived on sweets and drank tons of soda pop. I was having issues with my blood pressure, sleep, and a long list of other problems. I was clearly on my way out and I didn't care.
And then something weird happened. Friends began telling me how important I was to them and how they didn't want to lose me. They said I had more to offer and I was somebody they would miss if I were gone. A couple of them cried as they told me this. That penetrated.
So I began to pull away from you. I didn't want to but I knew I had to. Life changed and I couldn't afford you anyways. I had to back off.
But your grip on me was tight. And you had dug deep into my bones. Just a little distance from you made me sick. Withdrawals.
I would wake up throwing up, soaked in sweat, shaking. Then, we'd dance, and I'd level out.
My doctor said I needed to slowly back away from you because to suddenly go cold turkey would probably put me in the hospital. The human body can only take so much and you had gotten into every single cell in my body.
So, I slowly backed off. I tapered. And for the last year I have been sick almost every single morning. Not a day has passed where I didn't deal with some kind of withdrawal symptom or a health problem caused by you.
But for a year, I pulled back bit by bit from you, until now. Right now, our daily contact is just a small fraction of what it used to be. A tiny amount. And I need to make the leap and sever this chain.
You need to let me go.
I'm sorry. You were good to me. But it's a half-life now and I cannot live like this anymore.
I had to make a choice. Do I live or do I die? I am giving life another chance and that cannot happen when you and I are together.
You need to let me go. Please.
It's time. It's long past time, really, but we've been taking it slow. But we're almost done and it's time for us to walk away from each other.
You need to loosen your grip on me and let me go. You're not killing me but with you I cannot live. Just the act of moving away from you has caused all kinds of horrible side effects. My emotions are everywhere. I'm constantly breaking down over little things. I can't think straight and I hardly ever leave my apartment anymore because of anxiety.
If I survive breaking away from you, it will be a monumental achievement in my life. I deserve another shot at life. I deserve another shot at being happy. I deserve to be able to go through life without having to numb myself up just so I can function.
I deserve a chance to live without being chained to you. I'm sorry but that's just how it is. I deserve better than this shit. I have never been able to say that until just recently. I have never in my life, ever, said "I deserve something good."
Now I can. And that changes everything.
It's time for you to loosen your grip on me and let me grow into the person I was always meant to be.
Thank you and Goodbye.
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