I hated you. Hate is a strong and ugly word; one that I claim is not in my vocabulary, but there it is. I didn’t want the hate. I didn’t want the burden, I didn’t want anyone to have enough power over me to bring me to that point, but you did.
I loved you. I thought I had found something honest and true and powerful and it would carry me through the rest of my life. I was insanely in love and insanely naïve. I believed every word you said and I had to guard it carefully because no one could know. It rose to a fever pitch and just as abruptly, it ended. Actually, that is wrong. If it ended, I would have been spared years of pain, therapy, and having to tear my life apart so I could rebuild it. In a single moment, you told me the words that made me realize I gambled on love and lost two people. One of those people suffered a great deal and I will never be able to let that go, nor will I be able to tell them the truth.
I learned about alcoholic behavior from you. Pull me close, push me away, pull me close, push me away… over and over. I believed the midnight tales of possibility that vaporized in the morning light. When I discovered the truth, that I was nothing more than a diversion but also a potential liability, I was furious. On our last meeting your behavior was so appalling that I became physically ill.
I found some of the best and dearest friends through you. They should have been lifetime friends, but through manipulation and lies, they are now lost to me as well. Your undeniable charisma drew people close and your brilliance was blinding. It is no surprise that so many were blind to the truth. On that last meeting, I saw through clear eyes for the first time. I looked around and saw the actor on the stage and all of the audience rapt with tears in their eyes. Well played – as was I.
I read your obituary today. A little late, it was from six months ago. In all of that time, no one told me. So it seems that I, your dirty little secret, is safe and is literally taken to the grave. I protected you to the end.
I am angry, I grieve, I am disappointed in myself for carrying this unnecessary burden these last ten years. It is such a confusion of emotions that I am not sure what it all means. In the end, I suppose it turns out that it means nothing. I have nothing left but emptiness where there was once something so strong.
No one really knows who lives here but you and God and me. None of us are about to tell.
Goodbye.
