The Sacrament Is You. (the__collapse) wrote in _letterstoyou_,
The Sacrament Is You.

This is the last pointless letter. This is my goodbye. Most of all, this is me missing you. Are you proud of yourself? I hope so. You weren't even going to say goodbye, were you? I love you and I'm fucking sorry. I'm sorry that I trusted you, I'm fucking sorry that I believed you when you pretended that I was worth something. I knew you were lying with all that "You deserve better," shit. And I almost let you convince me anyway. Right now, I'm trying really hard to hate you. Funny enough, I can hate Jackie with all of my being.
What is all this about? Does this have anything to do with the Satanism? All of the "Rising above those who are unworthy"? Did you even see anything similar to Breeze with another guy, Or did you make it all up thinking that Nny deserved better? I never thought you'd do something like that. I'd like to keep thinking that, but it's not easy when I know damn well that you did not see her with someone else.
 Do you remember when I said that I loved you? You kept saying that you didn't want me hurt. What the hell happened there? It's finally hitting me that you're not coming back. I think I've known all along, but Breeze said it out loud. Somehow, even if you're nearly positive about something, saying it out loud makes it that much more real.
I came really close to going to sleep and not waking up last night. A few bottles of pills, some razorblades for good measure- how easy would that be? Are you proud of that? Somehow I don't think that you'd crack a genuine frown.
You're not losing sleep. You're not waking up screaming in the middle of the night. You're not waking up in the midst of thse screams, terrified that you're not even going to say goodbye. Guess what? I am, and I'm fucking sick of it. I'm sick of seeing you dead every time I close my eyes. I want you out of my head, just like I'm so obviously out of yours. Bullshit, you didn't read the last letter I sent. I'm sure you did. Do you believe that I wrote it now?
 I talked to Nny a while ago and now, his words are echoing in my head. When I said that you'd made it very clear that you didn't give a fuck about me, that you probably never had and I doubted that you even remembered me- "just trust me, he does," Nny kept telling me. Almost like it was the truth.
That makes it worse. I've grown an intense need to fuck myself up physically- almost as much as I am mentally. Maybe nothing could be as exquisitely painful as this, but I bet I could come damn fucking close. I don't even care, I don't want to feel any more. I need a method of destruction. Drinking myself into oblivion sounds like a great start. Getting high off every drug there is. Getting laid so many times over that I don't even remember their names. Until there's nothing left of me.
You know what? I can control that. Does any of it matter any more? Do you think I couldn't do all that shit? Ashly's been trying to get me to go to the campgrounds with her since May. I could do all of that, and then some.
 Breeze is the only reason that I'm breathing now. You used to be a reason.
 then you just... left. Just like almost everyone else. I thought you were different... I thought a lot of people were different, actually, but in the end they're all the fucking same. You made me feel alive, now everything is black and white. Everything's losing interest- everything's fading and there's not much of me left to take. Is that what you wanted?
 The hardest part is remembering how you acted like maybe I was important. Just a little. Like maybe my opinion matttered and I deserved something- someone- real. I'm sorry that you were wrong ( I don't.) and I'm not good enough. I'll make myself perfect, though. Not because of you. I'm tempted to chop all my hair off and wear the preppy clothes again out of spite, actually. That only reminds me of what you said though, that it didn't matter. You shouldn't say things like that. I might go and do something stupid, like believe you... fuck this. I'll make myself perfect. So fucked up that it works in the opposite direction. If this is what you wanted, fuck you.

 This is the last time that I will tell you "I love you." At least, out loud,
xox - Liz(zy) - xox

 P.S.- This is how a heart breaks.

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