I don't want to dream of you anymore.

I'm tired.

What's the point of dreaming when you're never here? Never here when I need you the most. You say you wish I was there but you never wish you were here, with me.

I'm out here, nearly dying, fearful at night; when will that demon of depression descend? Will tonight be the night that I just can't take it any longer? Will tonight be the night that I give in and take my own life? Where are you to stop all of this? While you sleep calmly 3000 miles away, I'm here wondering if tonight is the night that I finally crack and lose my mind for good.

Sometimes I wonder if you're the one that wants me dead. Would you like that? Like that girl in the US that coerced her boyfriend to committing suicide privately, then publicly acted like the grieving girlfriend. Would you rather I die so the world looks on at you in pity? The strong girlfriend, there for her boyfriend in times of despair but he just wasn't strong enough. She was, she is. Is that what you would like?

Would you tell them then about the time you told me you were a witch, with your own mouth? We're you joking or is this thing really spiritual with you? I mean, the next morning I dreamt that a house sized spider was trying to kill me. That was the second time I had that nightmare after spending the night with you, in the span of two weeks. The first time, my whole body was actually shaking uncontrollably and I was whimpering. I've never done that in my sleep. I woke up to see you looking at me asking what was wrong. I said it was a nightmare and I asked why you didn't wake me up when I started shaking. You said:

"It just went on for like ten seconds. I too just woke up to see it happening."

Count from one to ten. That's a very long time to watch the supposed person you love spasming uncontrollably and whimpering in his sleep and you do nothing.

You have certainly traumatised me. You deserve a trophy for that.

But no more. I'm tired of missing out on love because of you. Because of simply the thought of you, the hope that this time will be different. Romance.

I hope it's not too late for me.

But this is a break up letter.

We might have had our good times but the relationship became toxic. The sweet was mixed with and hidden within so much sludge that I tried to convince myself that all this shit was part of it.

I deserve to be loved and so do you. Maybe you'll meet someone that can exorcise whatever demons are living inside your head.

It sucks, this entire process. I've been with you for so long that I don't know what I am without you but I'm determined to find out this time.

Goodbye, for real this time.

You're not the only one I have to break up with though.

Emotionally, mentally, I have to break up with a woman I loved. She was right there when you weren't. She came to me. She said she would be right here in a heartbeat if I needed her, this is despite her having a boyfriend at the time she said that.

I loved her. Deeply. I don't understand the depths of it but it was, is strong. Let me give you an example that makes absolutely no sense:

She invited me to her place in Central London. I'd never been before and she had been inviting me there for a while now. Honestly, I wasn't quite sure how I would comport myself in such a situation. What are the boundaries? What's appropriate? What's not? I always told you whenever she came over, but I never mentioned that we used to go to sleep together. We'd just sleep in the same bed. Sometimes we'd sort of spoon, other times we'd just hold ourselves in some way. We never had sex though, never kissed or came close to it. We just held each other when we went to sleep. Honestly, it was lovely. They were some of the best nights of my life.

That's why when she woke up in my arms one morning, with the sun streaming in through the window and said to me:

"There's nothing quite like waking up in the arms of someone you love and that loves you."

Straight to the bone marrow, as a good friend of mine would say. Ladies and gentlemen of the court, I was shook.

I'm actually listening to the Spotify playlist we created together as I write this post for you.

I was a fool, but I digress, this was not the example I was trying to give.

Now that you know the sort of relationship this friend and I have, I feel the urgent need to confess that I took her up on her invitation to her place in London. We didn't have sex, or anything close to it but it made me realise some hard truths about myself. I can tell you the good, the bad, the lovely, the sad. All of it.

We smoked. Perhaps that's the first confession I should make...

She got me on that level. She felt the need to escape the pressures of life, when life seemed to make your full existence and impossibility. Smoking was our way to be, although we smoked very differently.

I was more interested in connecting with the people or person I smoke with while she was more interested in keeping to herself. We spoke about that once, explained what it meant to the other person. Our attitudes to marijauna were completely different though. She probably continued to see it as an illicit herb, something illegal and not meant to get used to. Whereas I had fully accepted it's place in my life and as a result, accorded it the respect it deserved. What I'm trying to say ladies and gentlemen, I would never smoke weed in a toilet. Give the herb some respect damn it.

But I loved her still. She smoked in the toilet with the door open, while I smoked by the open window and listened to music on my headphones. We were each in our own worlds but together at the same time. It still meant something to me.


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zOeYd8ZBeR0

Later that night, she would put on her Netflix and Chill playlist and get into bed, fully pajamaed, nothing exposed. I think she was wearing a baggy sweatshirt and baggy joggers too. And lord have mercy, she had an electric blanket. She switched it on and one terrible heat started to rise from the mattress. I felt like I was being cooked. Meanwhile she was wrapped up in that complete attire and under the blankets. There was certainly no Netflix or Chilling this night...

....

Wait

....

Pause

I have to stop the telling of that story for a minute. You see how easy that was, audience? You see how easily I feel into a trance of the past. I'm supposed to be moving on, thinking about my future but I can't seem to let these two women go. Are they witches or are they my true loves and if so then how is that supposed to work?

They don't have to be your true loves I can almost hear your day. If not then why did I ever love them? To just love them for a while and leave them?

This is going to be a long night.

Lamentations

Because I may as well be honest. Those is no longer a breakup letter. It's me, talking to you the reader about my fears that I might've missed or on two great opportunities to love and be loved.

Is there any chance something can happen between me and the best friend? I've been spending the better part of the year trying to kill those feelings. I haven't always been successful.

I knew it was too late when she met someone. Can you imagine life? I realised I have strong feelings for her while I was in a relationship with my ex, and this Adonis came along and swept hey of her feet. The worst thing is that in some ways, myself and Adonis (we're going to call him that from now) are quite similar but wildly different in others.

Anyway, he's coming to join her in London soon. I'll be completely shut out then. Shut out and alone. The tunnel vision I have for my best friend and my ex almost makes it impossible for me to see the opportunities right in front of me. Perhaps I should spend more time talking about that instead...