Because I love to love you...

but it isn't good for me. Tonight, you took me out to dinner and you wanted to discuss things because there are still things that are tormenting me... there is this open book but I'm the only one writing it and you're giving me the ink... but you, yourself will not contribute or write your own words. You say that you love me and that you can't forget me... but you DO NOT want to love me because it is painful. Your last words to me, "Take care of yourself, I hope we find each other again someday." The thing is? We won't... because someday, you and I will be different and we won't need each other to guard each other's solitude.

I've always loved solitary writers like Rilke and Murakami. The thing is? Our relationship reminded me of a Murakami novel. Murakami used his characters to exploit his own solitude, whereas, Rilke sought out solitude to further enrich his writing and his experiences. Murakami found it within people... two lovers in the same bed, still alone when they closed their eyes. This is all too familiar to me and I'd rather be like Rilke.

As much as we loved to love each other, we are both fundamentally different... I have always sought out adventure and took the hard road because it was what I wanted to do, I needed that struggle to live my life and you? You chose the most practical life you abandoned what you REALLY wanted to do and settled down for working for a corporation. I was never wired that way, my brain can not fathom this. So while you were in school and studying... I was traveling the country in two mismatched suitcases, discovering people and grabbing what I could from my experiences, learning and picking up the things I loved and running with them, finding the things I hated and running away from them.

You didn't want to lose me but you have to because we can not continue if one wants to love and the other doesn't because it hurts. It hurts that you find me difficult to love.

In hindsight though, it's probably for the best I have always had blueprints for my life and they always depended on my best interest and although you made me comfortable and made me feel safe and secure, I stifled and couldn't grow. My wants were always secondary to yours and you always got a say in what we needed to do, or who we needed to hang out with. I obliged and put my friends on the 'wait list'. I do not need alcohol to unwind and have a good time, I have no qualms doing that without being intoxicated or buzzed. I like the taste of whiskey or a good scotch but I do not like how it makes my brain almost infantile and impairs my judgement. It is a depressant and let's be honest, I don't need anymore things to contribute to the way my brain is already wired. I did that shit in my early 20s and it amounted to no good. We have different means for entertainment... so how could we possibly live our lives together unless one of us had to sacrifice pieces of themselves. It wasn't our fault, you loved me and I loved you... and right now? I still do and probably will for a while... but I have to not want to as well because it will hurt.

In Paris, I walked around feeling like my core was being crushed... that I was smashing little pieces of myself into the cobblestones and leaving them behind, I was mourning for all the pieces of my life that I was allowing to die? For you? I don't know... but it was like there was a ghost sitting on my chest.

I said goodbye to you today... and the ghost left, the tears dried up. I loved you, I love you but I finally feel free. I'm closing the book that I've been writing for two years, and putting it on the shelf for now. Thank you for protecting me and for showing me love... we tried, we did our best but we couldn't do it. Thank you for helping me find myself again and allowing me to grow, thank you for loving me so much that you finally let me go.