Dear My OneLove,

I’m writing to you because I made a mistake.  A huge mistake.  But you knew that already.  You’ve known me forever.  Who I am, what I’ve wanted to be.  It hurts me so much to know that you knew what I was going through – even when I didn’t.  You knew you had to let me go…  but how? How did you let me go, then?  It took me 3 years to see what you saw.  It took me 3 years to learn that when I left you, I fucked up my life.  I’ve been lost without you.  You were my one and only… but… I can and will understand if you want nothing to do with me… in fact, I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t.

However, for some reason, I have to tell you why.  Even if you never speak to me again… you have to know.  Butt – I was so sick.  I was so mentally ill, I’m so sorry.  I justified leaving you because then I could get “healthy”.  Then I could become a vegetarian  (and eventually a vegan, then gluten-free.. and so on… until all I ingested was juice.) Yes… it sounds awful… but it was there, in my mind for years.  For years before I even met you.  But you knew that. You challenged it.  You somehow knew I was sick… but, unfortunately it wasn’t the right timing.  Until 6 months ago I wasn’t ready to admit my sickness.

But it’s finally getting better.  For the past 6 months I have been in intensive treatment for an eating disorder.  I have been learning how to feed myself, how to love myself, how to value myself, and how to live my life so that I can better love and praise those who are in my life.  I hate that everything I go through, I think of you.  It makes me remember you and how much you loved me no matter what.  I remember some of our silly fights.   I remember you telling me who I was, and I wouldn’t listen.  I also can’t help but think that were we still together now, you’d be there holding my hand, supporting me every day.  I get through some days because I think of you.  I know… maybe you’ve changed a ton… maybe I’ve changed a ton… but whatever it is, I keep on pushing.

You just have to know – I didn’t know who I was.  I didn’t know what I wanted.  Near the end – I created this image in my head of you, so that it’d be easier to push you away.  Good lord, I hate to admit this… I didn’t cry until 2 years later.  I remember watching you shed a tear that day.  But it wasn’t until 2 years later that it hit me.  I was empty… a shell.. when I left you.  Last year when it finally hit me I was rolling on the floor, drooling, gasping, straining… in so much fucking pain.  My Butt… you have to know.. the girl who left you – it wasn’t really me… deep down… I still love you, and no matter what… I always will.

You also have to know… I hate to hear that you may be unhappy in the relationship you’re in now (I could be sooooo wrong though now?!).  You are the one I want to make happy, for the rest of my life.  You’ve pushed me, and strengthened me, and when I was sick I couldn’t handle my own illness, and I hurt you.. you somehow still loved me.  I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to forgive myself.  A love like that doesn’t come along very often.  But I messed it up.  I was so sick Butt.  I’m still recovering, and honestly, right now, I’m relishing in small victories like: making a simple chicken dinner, going for a walk, saying no to someone, or just eating breakfast.

I miss you Butt.  I love you.  It took me 3 years to get here, but I did.  I’m sorry to make you wait.  But at this point, I’m putting it in your hands.  Please tell me what you want… If you tell me to leave you alone, I’ll move on forever… but if not… well, I love you.  I will lovr you either way, but I need to know.  Black or white, I need to know.

Love always.

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