Another goodbye.

________,

I want to write this to you in case I forget to say some thing or things in person.  I know this is going to be hard, and I don’t want to risk you not understanding, or at the very least, not getting all of my thinking.

Let me start with affirmations, which I hope you can remember and believe when it’s easier to focus on the negative.  I think you are the sweetest, kindest man I have ever met.  I am blessed to know you and to have you love me as much as you do.  I admire your bravery in making such a huge life change and the steps you’ve taken to grow as a person.  I can’t imagine the strength it has taken for you to cope with so many challenges, without asking for support or help from anyone.  I am so proud of you and happy for you about the positive experiences you’ve had during your recent training—you deserve to have a turn-around at work; you deserve to be recognized for the good things you are doing.  In fact, you deserve the very best in all facets of your life. 

Let me also be very clear about this:  I love you and care about you a great deal.  If you need my support, it will be there, without question. 

It is because of all of these things that I cannot wait to do this, to say this.  I can’t be your girlfriend anymore.  It wouldn’t be fair.  It wouldn’t be right.  I do not love you the way you love me.  My heart and my gut—my emotions, my intuition—are not in line with my logic.  And no amount of time or rationalization is going to change that.  I’m sure of that now.  In fact, although I am not particularly excited about hurting you, I’m more sure about this than I have been about anything in recent months. 

I have been trying to write myself into the perfect love story, the story we’ve been creating for ourselves.  This makes so much sense; WE make so much sense. We’ve felt drawn to each other, off and on, for years.  We have such a common background and have a deeper understanding of each other because of that.  Our families know each other and are supportive of the two of us together.  Our friends are supportive, too.  Everybody seems to see the perfection of the story, but that doesn’t mean it is perfect. 

I’ve realized that there is a disconnect between the experience I’ve been painting for myself and the experience I’ve actually been having.  I have worked very hard to try to make myself feel this, to want and need this gutturally, but it’s not there.  Of course, I have had moments of contentment and happiness, because I enjoy spending time with you.  You are a wonderful person, and I like being around you; I like having you in my life.  But that doesn’t translate to me being in love with you, to this being the right thing for me. 

And I think I’ve been using “the walls” and “the being emotionally closed off,” “the being scarred and scared,” as barriers to hide behind. I certainly have been hurt in the past, but I know I’m not this emotionally stunted.  It is not coming naturally to me, not because I’m not capable of it, but because somehow, subconsciously, I knew something wasn’t working. You’ve said that I’m “copping out” quite a bit lately, and you’re right.  But not in the way you thought.  I wasn’t listening to myself.  I wasn’t letting myself admit that this wasn’t working for me, so I kept coming up with lame excuses or reasons for the way I was acting.  I was trying to give myself enough time to MAKE it work.  Some things, though, you just can’t force.  This is one of them.  And it’s not fair to you. 

I don’t really know what catalyzed this bout of self-analysis and realization (or, rather, beginnings of self-realization), but I’m starting to listen to myself, to pay attention to my desires and my aspirations.  This is the hardest thing I think anyone can do, and for a long time, I’ve been putting myself second to what seems to be the “right” path or the one I have a responsibility to simply because I’ve started down that road.  But instead of staying in things that aren’t working, isn’t it better to be honest?  First, with myself, but also with the people I’m affecting? 

I don’t believe we’re as compatible as we’ve been trying to convince ourselves we are.  I am not going to make you happy in the end, because I can’t love you the way you need to be loved, the way you deserve to be loved.  I believe you will find that in somebody just as wonderful as you. 

I know you don’t want to hear, “I’m sorry.”  But I am.  I am sorry that it took me so long to figure this out.  I am sorry you’re hurting; you don’t deserve that.  I am sorry you made such a drastic move for something that didn’t pan out the way you pictured it.  I’m sorry you might hate me after this.  Believe me, I will feel badly about that for a very long time.  I will regret hurting someone that I care about so deeply and respect so much.

On the other hand, I am NOT sorry we tried.  If we didn’t try, we would never have known—you might not have proven to yourself that you could leave the comfort of home, that you could be on your own.  I might not have learned that there is a sensitivity and kindness that I should expect from a partner.  I might not have learned how to be honest with myself, to pay attention to the actuality instead of the make-believe reality. 

Thank you for loving me.  I’m sorry I’m hurting you. 

If there is any way you can keep me in your life, I would love that.  But if you need space, time, or a clean cut, I understand that, too. 

You are wonderful.  Please don’t ever forget that.

With love.