Why did he say he loves me?
I love him too, but it didn’t make what I had to do any easier.
I kept fighting doing the right thing.
But when he came out of the bedroom, I knew I had to find a wayto get rid of him.
I had to save him from the hurt.
I was awful to him. Terrible, but I had to be. I had to make himfeel like I was a bastard for not believing in him to get him to leave because ifI’d just said that I didn’t want to hurt him, he would have stayed. He wouldhave convinced me that we could get through it, and I know where that leads. Ihad that same discussion with Melanie so many times before the end. And even ifhe was willing to suffer, I’m not willing to watch him become an empty personbecause of who I’ve become.
He may think I’m a terrible person forever for how I justtreated him, but I would have been a selfish monster to keep him here anylonger when I know how the story ends. When I’ve already played it out oncebefore.
Now he’ll run. That’s who he is, but I have to believe he wouldhave done that anyway. Once it all fell apart. At least now he still has lifein his body. At least I haven’t totally destroyed him the way I could have.
Running is what he knows. Running is what he’s good at. He’s asurvivor.
But that doesn’t make me feel better about how far I let it get.
I knew this was on the horizon. That the darkness would return.But I entertained the fantasy that he could make me better. I wanted to believewe could push through, but after the despair of this latest encounter crippledme, I knew better. I believed the same thing with her. With my poor, beautifulMelanie who I sucked the life out of.
This isn’t a battle I’ll ever win. No one wins with PTSD. And asmuch as I tried to convince myself that we could fight together, if it was thateasy, Melanie never would have gotten so hurt.
I never would have ruined her life.
I promised myself I would never hurt anyone the way I hurt her.
He’ll never know, but I didn’t do this because I don’t careabout him or because I didn’t believe in him. I did it because I care about himso much and can’t bear the thought of wrecking his life.
Why did you leave, Jay?
The thought lingers even though I know the answer.
No, Jay. You deserve better than this life. So much better.
I sit in silence, reeling in the physical pain from the horriblereminder that Melanie’s letter awoke within me. Still struggling with thepowerful anxiety that’s crippled me—the anxiety I had to fight with myeverything to find the energy—the will—to stand up and help Jay get out of mylife forever.
This isn’t his fight.
I lie back down on the couch, waiting for the pain to subside.But after what just happened, the intensity and excitement of it all, that’snot likely. I might even have to call out of work tomorrow and just lie righthere.
Fuck me. Fuck me to hell.
I can’t have happiness. Not like other people. I’m not kiddingmyself anymore.
This is my life. This is all I can hope for. The silence. Utterloneliness and despair.
I’m so sorry, Jay. I’m so sorry, Melanie.
At least I had a moment with him—a beautiful moment where thepain was dull and the pleasure so powerful. At least in more lucid moments I’llbe able to cling onto that the way I once clung onto Jay’s body.
38
Jay
I push my bedroom door open. I have to start packing.
I’m outta here.
