When you’re reading this, I’m already on my way to New Zealand. I destroyed my phone in order to have no chance of reversing my decision to leave you. I’ve wanted to do that for 20 years.
Already in the first week of our relationship I felt uncomfortable. You were too dominant, always deciding everything we were going to do. Once you had put your mind on the fact that I was the person you loved, you painted me the way you wanted to. You decided that I liked Japanese anime, so you did me the favor of watching them with me once a month, even though you claimed not to be too fond of them. On our weekly date night we went to eat pizza in the little Italian place that you decided I found cute. At some point you made up your mind that it was time for us to get married. So you bought us two rings and arranged a big wedding party. I got to choose between the white and the pink wedding cake frosting.
Being with you feels like wearing a shoe that’s about three sizes too small – once the foot is forced in it hurts and it’s hard to get out of it again. I can’t count the evenings where you were perfectly happy babbling on about something you were interested in, taking my occasional “mhm”s as signs of approval. Try to remember a time during the last two decades when I have ever decided something for us. You can’t? That’s because it never happened.
Maybe I’m a coward for not having left you earlier. I’ve tried, I seriously did. But the longer we were together the harder it got. I felt bad for shattering the illusion you had of me being your big love. Besides, it’s hard to leave somebody who never gives you a chance to speak at all. I can’t say that you’ve ever truly mistreated me. We had an incredibly harmonious relationship. Probably because I hardly ever said a thing.
This has to stop. I’m starting to forget who I was before I became your puppet. I’m drowning in your shadow. In a way I’m sorry for you. You have lived in a complete dream world for almost half of your life. But, honestly, I feel more sorry for myself.