I just want you to know I am done. I know you don’t believe it, but this time I am really done. I wash my hands of this–give it to God, as they say. “Stronger without you, stronger without you…” I’ll say it like a mantra until it sticks.
Thank you for showing me who you are. But who am I? You have never known. Because I have never shown. I am the real imposter.
I am a happily married woman. Really. We are the kind of couple that, if you saw us out and about we look like we are still dating, even though we’ve been together for thirteen years. We are obviously enamored of one another. We are best friends, who do just about everything together, even wash dishes side by side every evening after dinner, which we share in a quiet room, face to face. We talk about our day. Every day. And the sex. It is the best I’ve ever had in my life. And I’ve had a lot of sex.
My life in general is the best it has ever, ever been. So why? And why you?? At first, I thought you were that one little missing piece in my so close to perfect puzzle. Am I a perfectionist? Sometimes I think I am.
Then you became an emotional trigger…pulling out this painful long-supressed history from my soul. You brought out a dark creative edge I had forgotten about. I was inexplicably drawn to you as a muse for my own expression.
I talked to Dr. Susan about you and she asked me what you represented. Fantasy, play, creativity. Those were my responses. But there was more I didn’t say. A subversive sexuality that I have always been afraid to examine. A deeply rooted terror of real intimacy. Those are the true issues. I know that. I am working on that. And there is nothing you can do to help me there.
My real strength lies in avoiding you. My personal power is only diminished in your presence. I realize that. The fact is I used you just like a drug. I didn’t care that much about your writing, except when it was about me, which was never as often as I wished. I just wanted your attention whenever I wanted it.
I always hated the way you pulled away whenever things got emotional for me. I especially hated this past week how you followed my blog, then lurked silently for days, never saying a word to me. That was painfully exhausting. I made so many notes over the past few days–all the mean, nasty feelings I was having–all of it that would be woven into strands of golden poetry. But fuck it. I just can’t waste energy there anymore.
And you are wrong. What you said in your poem. When my storm is passed, yada yada. I can only project this poem may have been directed toward me, but it could have been about any number of women you deal with. Anyway…I just want to offer that ignoring a woman’s distress is not a gentlemanly thing to do. Nevertheless, this time, the storm of my emotions has washed you away.
But, it’s okay anyway, right? I mean, the last thing you need is another angry woman in your life. And believe you me—on your journey there will be many more.
This chapter is truly over for me, although there may be a few intense residual poems and pieces that rise to the surface from time to time. But these feelings are just old ghosts making appearances. I realize that now.
I guess that’s all I have to say. All that needs to be said. Have a good life.