An Unspoken Letter
Some nights, the roller coaster I’m on feels more like a skydive.
Nothing to hold.
No reverse button.
It’s nights like this I find it so hard to articulate how I feel. Because how do you string a thousand conflicting emotions into a sentence?
My chest is swelling. I’m puffing out short breaths. But the knot in my throat lets more air out than in, and I feel a little dizzy. I suppose it’s an accurate reflection of how my mind feels. At least my body is in sync.
But I don’t know how to spell the emotion I’m feeling. How do you explain your state of mind when you’re sitting alone, thinking about what is so wrong with you that you can’t keep a man for more than five fucking seconds, waiting for something great to happen, when all of the sudden you stumble across an enormous, blaring picture of your ex-husband… with his new girlfriend?
I know that I am overreacting. And I understand that I’ll go to sleep, and tomorrow, my world will be none the worse.
But right now, I say fuck reason. I’m crying.
A big part of me feels jealous. Here I am, venting my feelings to thousands of wonderful strangers, but ultimately crying myself to sleep alone.
And there is my cheating husband. Content. Accompanied. Happy, maybe.
I thought about writing him an email. Just to let him know that I know. But it just isn’t worth bringing him back into my life.
So for all of you to read for him, here is the email he will never receive:
I loved you so very much. I got you for five years. And that was 1,825 days that you made me smile.
I know why I fell for you, and I know that it can’t be hard for you to find a girl. But listen to the one who still knows you best. You’re not ready.
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