A breakup letter

Dear Ana,

You have loved me ruthlessly. When I felt that love had abandoned me, you remained; like a knife lodged in my side, paralyzing me in pain, you were there, and you would not let go.

I thought you made me safe, but you only built a cage for me and lured me inside. You locked the door behind me. You kept me from everything I feared at the expense of everything I loved.

I thought you gave me control, but you only blindfolded me, distracting me from my very own life, to steal control from me. I was a hostage in the backseat of my own car.

There is nothing beautiful about you, Ana. Every square inch of you disgusts me.

Ironically, those are the things you used to tell me, and I believed them. Never again.

You’re a fantasy, Ana. An illusion. You wish to be me, but you never will be. You’ll never know what it means to be alive. To have a beating heart. To breathe in sweet oxygen. To laugh. To cry. To hunger, to eat and be satisfied.

You took those things from me. Now I’m taking them back. I’m trading you in. You’ll never be me. You’ll never define me.

And no, you don’t get one more night. Not even a last kiss. You must go. You can’t live here anymore. I will forgive myself and forget all about you. You’ll never be welcome here again. I. Am. Done.

I’m pulling the blade out; the one that has remained in me for so long. Sure, I’m a little scared, but someone will be there to stop the bleeding. The ones who really love me. The ones with beating hearts. The ones that are real–which is something you will NEVER be.

So long, Ana. I don’t need you anymore. I never loved you, and I never will. You will NEVER have me again.



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