November 28, 2010
Dear Kyle,
I slipped.
I should not have said any of what I said to you tonight. I am nowhere near infallible so this is not the first mistake I’ve ever made but hopefully it will be the last I make with you. Of course, for this, there is no guarantee.
I was rambling tonight. And you were mean. I’ve kind of caught on to the fact that every really mean moment you’ve had with me that I couldn’t understand, you were high. Like when you told me you kind of saw it coming when I broke up with you. Or when you said you didn’t care whether we talked again. And everything you said tonight. Honestly, on the first two, I’m just guessing. If I’m wrong however, I’d like an explanation. A real one this time.
Do you realize that most of my mood swings in this relationship have to do with conversations I have in my own mind. I may have a mild form of schizophrenia. Or I may just be a poet. Either way, I think to much. I care too much.
You do too. I think. Most of time. When you’re not high. You’re really mean when your high. Not because you want to be. Not because something deep inside you comes out and releases vengeance on everyone you sub-consciously feel has ever wronged you. It’s because people get high so they don’t have to care about shit that’s going on around them. And it works. You end up not caring about me, especially my feelings and as a result, you dig your heels in them. You cut holes in me and when I ask you why you tell me it’s out of indifference. You don’t even give me the satisfaction of being mad at me. You hurt me just because…..
Let’s be clear. I love you. You are caring, and sweet and you’ll say whatever it takes to comfort me and make me smile even if sometimes that equals total bullshit. Your intentions are pure. But not when your high. And that would be fine, I could overlook that if you weren’t always getting high.
You told me once that you would always be there for me. I didn’t believe you and I kept wondering why. Why would I not believe someone so sincere? But then I realized, it’s not that I didn’t believe you, it’s that I didn’t believe who you were becoming. That’s high Kyle. Uncaring Kyle. Careless Kyle. Indifferent Kyle. It’s like freaking Jeckyll and Hyde with you. And dammit, if that’s who you are, if that’s when you’re most happy, who am I to want to change that? Who am I to constantly be giving crap for it. I don’t want to be that person. You are a changing man. I recognize you.
But you can’t expect me to love you in that constant state. You can’t expect me to trust someone so unreliable. You can’t expect me to expect someone to always be there for me when half the time they’re not there for themself.
Be who you are, do what you want. But I will cut you out of my life. I will avoid you. I will elude you. You will miss me.
Or maybe you won’t. But I miss you. And I can’t keep texting and calling you with fingers crossed hoping this will be the day of the week that we can actually talk. That you’ll be sober. That things will be talked out instead of made so much worst.
And it’s not about you, or weed. Or me, or sexual abuse, or my dad. Or my love for you, or your smile or your cheeks, or your gorgeous eyes. It’s not about me wishing you’d hold me. It’s not about too much lust or sex. It’s about all the above. It’s about everything. There is way too much tearing us apart. So don’t blame yourself or your, what I will now safely call, addiction. Cause God knows, we just don’t mesh well.
You were fine before me and you’ll have a wonderful life long after. I regret my inability to be apart of it. Thank you for the time we’ve spent together and the sunsmiles and the sandy blondes and the “God, I wish I didn’t have to leave you” moments.
I love you,
Augustine
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