It’s time. In fact, it’s long overdue. I’ve needed to purge myself of this, of you, for too long. Today, I took the last of your things to the storage unit. There are no more reminders of you in this house. No more reminders of our relationship, except the emotional scars you’ve left. Now, it’s time to purge you from my soul, once and for all.

This is all that I’ve been wanting to say to you but haven’t or can’t. Not because I’m afraid to say them. I don’t say them to you because I am not cruel. Hurting you with these words won’t help either of us. I’m not like you. I don’t use my words to make others bleed. How many times did you use words to make me bleed? To make me feel like less than nothing? To make me feel insignificant? Too many times to count. You often went out of your way to hurt me, just so you could feel better about yourself. I tried for so long to believe that it was your illness that made you that way. It wasn’t. That is in you. The illness just made it so much worse.

I have tried to be your friend, mostly because I know you have such a hard time making and keeping friends. I have tried to be supportive without letting you take advantage of me. But you did. You left your shit here for over a year. You always had some excuse for why you couldn’t get it. I let it go and let it go and let it go. I was trying to be kind. I was trying to not add to the stress that so easily pushes you over the edge. But a year? That was unfair to me. But you didn’t care. You never have. I take some responsibility because I didn’t come right out and say “get your shit out of my house.” That is where my kindness backfires on me. Even after agreeing to getting a storage unit, you still couldn’t move your shit. Again, I had to take responsibility for YOUR business. Just like so many other times in the four years we were together. You are selfish, irresponsible, and lazy. You always were. Those were the words you used to describe me so many times. You were really describing yourself.

I won’t deal with your shit anymore. I won’t take on your responsibilities. I won’t take on the guilt that I’ve felt so many times in the last year. The last time I heard from you? The morning of Christmas Eve. You nonchalantly replied to a message I had sent thanking you for the gift you sent. “I’ve been in the hospital since Monday and just got released today.” When I asked what was wrong and if you were ok. “Overdose. Mental hospital.” That’s when I knew I had to cut all remaining ties. I can’t be a part of the drama. I won’t feel guilty for moving on with my life when you are struggling with yours.  This is the third time you’ve tried to OD since I’ve known you. You refuse to get help. You have refused to let people help you. You just want to sit there, wearing your illness as your identity, and be a victim and martyr. You want to blame everyone else for leaving you despite the fact that you treat them all like shit.

Do you know just how traumatized you leave your loved ones? For four years, I had panic attacks whenever my cell phone rang. That was because of you. Because after awhile, I knew that any call from you was going to be some baseless accusation or insult or rant about what a “selfish, useless, fucking asshole” I was. Your words. Not mine. Rarely did you call just to say hi or see how my day was. No. It was always about you and what you needed. It took four months after you moved out for the panic attacks to stop when the phone rang. I still can’t break the habit of not replying to emails right away when I get them. I came out of our relationship with more neuroses than when it started. It may take years for me to fully recover. Some scars will always remain.

1500 days (give or take a few weeks) of being treated like I was a piece of shit smeared on your shoe. I will take some of the blame. I didn’t stand up to you. I didn’t want to start a fight. I didn’t want to appear insensitive or unsupportive. Never again. My next relationship will be different. I am different. I am stronger because of our relationship and despite your attempts to tear me down. I will always be stronger than you because I choose to be kind and loving. I choose to air these words to the ether and not say them to you. Saying them would be cruel and hurtful. And despite how you treated me, you don’t deserve the same treatment.

You have been purged from my soul like a bad virus.