Some Things To Get Off My Chest

Dear ________,

I thought you loved me.  I thought you cared about me.  Once again I have been played, allowed myself to fall for the old lie.  All this time you have just been using me.  I admit, and regret, that sometimes it felt like I was using you too, to feed my own addictions....but I did really care for you.  I still do.  I wish we could still spend time together, I miss our jokes and our hugs and the things only the two of us understand. 

When we first met and you started paying attention to me, I was so lonely and starved for affection that I took your attentions as genuine feelings.  I held your secrets and you held mine and even though we didn't always make the most healthy of choices, I felt safe with you.  You said some things to me last night that  shattered that illusion.  At least I know now that I made the right choice in breaking ties with you, even though it killed me to do it.  Was it all a lie from the very beginning?  Did you ever care, at all?

I could tell you that taking advantage of my vulnerability like that has left me bitter and so fucking depressed that I want to give up and get wasted right now, but that's exactly what you want isn't it?   Because that's what I always do, run right back to you and what you have to offer, and fall for the lies of love and affection.  It's so classic-me it's fucking pathetic.  I said that day that I was ending the cycle, and I didn't just mean the drugs.  If there was any nugget of hope in my mind that I could still see you, it's gone now.  I need to stay far, far away from you or the pattern of abuse is just going to continue.  Because that's what it is - me, broken, seeking love in the wrong places from the wrong people and letting people control me and use me.  And thanking them for it, and asking for more.  You know exactly which carrots to dangle in front of me to suck me in, just the right words to say to set me off.  No more.  Fuck you all.  I'm not gonna be your floor mat or your fucking rent boy any longer. 

Sincerely,
A Survivor