Lancing

Friday night, I was driving. If I leave my community a certain way, I see EF's house.. and, in case you're new here... that USED to be *MY* house. I see into her kitchen, I see into her bedroom. I know when she's home. When she's not. And that night, I saw the lights on.

I contemplated, even in my ratty sweats and crazy hair, driving over to her house and just ripping off the bandaid. Instead of waiting for her to contact me, taking the plunge myself. Getting her out of my life for the final time. Telling her what I needed to tell her, and walking away down her driveway, LIKELY crying, but better off in the long run. As I drove, I played the whole 'speech' out. I worded everything perfectly. I was kind. I was honest. I was exactly what I want her to remember me as.

I didn't think about it again, until I was driving BACK home. A car passed me on the highway close to home, and it was her car. Well, it LOOKED like her car. Same make and model and colour. I didn't see the driver. As it passed me, I checked the license plate to see if it WAS her.

The plate stated simply this: NME ***

hm. interesting.

I got home, and remembered this letter I drafted a long while ago, and thought I'd share it.

********************

Dear EF.

After sitting here for a few minutes, I've tried to decide how to start this letter, or, more importantly, how to end it. But, instead of trying to 'plan' my thoughts, you're just gonna have to bear with me and read them as they fly.

Do you have any idea how much of my life you infiltrated? How much of my heart you still hold? How much of it you broke? The thing is, I know you DON'T have any idea. You can't understand. Because, if you loved me like I loved you, we would be having quite a different conversation.

I am mad.
I want you and all remains of this pain to get out. Out of my life, out of my community, out of 'my house', out of my head and out of my heart. Thankfully, the wretched couch is out. And Chris is out. And there's no way to get all of those wishes to come true. But "out of my life"-- that one I can control.

So. Here it is. I love you. I hate you. And I want to eradicate you from as much of my life as possible. Don't call me. Don't email me. Don't come over. Don't wave to me at the school bus stop. Please-- to you, I do not exist. Apparently, that shouldn't be too hard for you- you incredulously managed to imagine my nonexistence when you were busy with my husband.

How obtuse of you to think that, because I'm a loving person, you can be my friend now. That using me as a doormat is acceptable to you. A place to drop your kids while you stab me in the back. Don't hug me. Don't even think about mentioning my name to your children... they are victims too, and they don't deserve it. You keep them at a dayhome that abuses them (which I witnessed and TOLD YOU ABOUT) and it disgusts me. I love your children sometimes more than I think you do. You used to tell Chris that you knew what love was... I am starting to highly doubt that.

"Steve" is so much more of a man than you've ever deserved. To cheat on him as many times as you have, in his bed, in his home, with his friends... you're a whore. But that's your marriage. And my heart hurts so badly for him. He is a good man. You do not love him. And from what you've said to me, you will likely hurt him yet again in the future. Bravo for taking such a sweet spirit and wrapping it around your betraying, fornicating fingers. You are NOT honest with him now. And if I was half what you are, I'd let him know. But I'm better than that. I can't be like you.

So. In spite of what seems easier, I love you. And I always will. I'd say I'm sorry for the things I've said above, but I guess we know that "sorrys" don't really cut it sometimes.

I believe that I forgive you. And I KNOW I need you out.