For the sake of this letter, My Name Is Elle.
I took you out of my life because I was tired. I got tired of us not being able to “move forward”.
Tired of friends asking about us and being baffled that we were still both single and somehow STILL managed to not be in a relationship.
Tired of their bewildered “HOW IS THAT AN ISSUE?” when I explain why. An insurmountable issue to you, more than to me.
I got tired of feeling like I was in a relationship while not being in one.
Tired of strangers assuming we were “together” when they saw us together and us scrambling to explain how we were not, because it became necessary to do so sometimes. The confused expressions, the apologies thereafter…tired.
Tired of your friends going “oh so you are the Elle, X talks about you all the time” etc.
Tired of perfect days spent together, yes tired because they only left me feeling sad afterwards.
You made it extremely difficult to walk away because of all the little things you did that made me love you…
Was it the free hand I had with your things?
Was it the random forehead kisses?
Was it taking my hand protectively, switching sides on the sidewalk (yes that made me appreciative)
Was it fixing me baths even though you were the one with work in the morning and my lazy ass had nowhere to be?
Was it the fact that my head nestled in your chest was like a welcome sedative, a muscle relaxant and sleeping tablet rolled in one?
Was it the enthusiasm with which you shared your current favourites with me when we’d been apart for a while? Giving me assignments with timeframes to watch stand up comedies, documentaries, making me listen to albums you discovered till my ears bled…
Or was it the consistency of it all? 7 years and unchanged, through all the off and ons, back and forths you treated me the same. I could go on forever…
I’m sorry you’re hurt, I admit it didn’t need to be so brutal.
But hard as it was, it had to be done.