Dear A,
I am weak. I have no energy. I feel like my vital organs have been turned to stone and the weight is too heavy to carry.
Since the day I met you nearly two years ago, and as I've grown to know you, I've pictured what it would be like to be with you. I imagined finally having the support I've always wanted, the love and comfort of someone willing to work through the most difficult of situations, and the security of a lifelong teammate. Yes, I saw it all... dreamed it, talked about it with my friends, and even dared to plan on it; dared to let my mind wander a little too far into the future.
When people would ask me about our situation, I'd describe it, and to their confused looks I would defend you. I'd say that things are complicated now, but he's a great man and he loves me. The circumstances with his ex girlfriend and my move make it hard, but he's shown me that he's moving on and has finally started to make me believe I am a priority. My mom would question me in a skeptical way she never has before, "You're not actually going to marry him, are you?" she said to me the night I told her we probably weren't going to Hawaii after all. But I defended you and us and the choices I've made to put you in my future. I told her that you were just working things through, but that you always do what you say you're going to do, and this would be no different. I told her I've never met someone so dependable and that even if things were tricky at this moment, you'd come around. I could hear her smile through the phone. "I trust you. All that matters is that you're happy."
But I can see now that there is so much more going on than my optimism and belief in you and us is able to fix. I can't defend you anymore because I'm finally starting to see that everyone else might have been right all along. Your involvement with Andrea is a huge red flag. As much as you want to, and as hard as you've tried, you can't give me the security I need. I want to believe that if I just wait a little bit longer, things will work out, but I'm losing hope. I've been holding on. I've come back from the edge of every cliff I've almost pushed this relationship over. But I don't know if I can do it anymore.
Holding on to hope for Andrea isn't going to bring her back, or if it does it will be temporary. You two have tried and failed countless times, and now that she's finally asked you to let her go, you're clinging to whatever shreds of "maybe" you can find so that she isn't gone for good. You've lost her, and while you're spending all your energy looking backwards at the place where she once was, you're not seeing that you're losing me too.
I'm sorry. I wanted to use the last ounce of my strength to ask you to work on letting her go, to go to Hawaii with me and make little steps in a forward direction. I wanted to ask you to invest in your future. I wasn't going to ask that you stop seeing other people all together, or that we make plans right now to be together in June. All I wanted was a little baby step towards hope, towards an airplane to an island where I could leave my worries in the waves for five days; where I could be reminded of exactly why it is I saw so much hope in you, in us, in the first place.
But I'm defeated. There is no hope for us in the future if we can't make little steps towards it now. We were on the right track when you told me a month ago that you're tired of missing out on things because of how Andrea may feel. We were on the right track last weekend when you came here. But look how easily it got derailed. Look how quickly you've changed your mind. I want a reason to stay. I want a reason to hope. But I'm worried that I'm running out of places to look.
Love, M
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