oh em hoyt

It’s been six months without you.

There was a time (far too long of a time) when I couldn’t do anything without you. At one point, you were there first thing in the morning, the last thing at night, and the only thing I did or thought of in between. If I wasn’t with you, I thought obsessively about the next time I could be and how I would do anything to make that happen.

Where did it all go wrong? I really don’t know how it got to the point that it did. How did I get to the point of not being able to function without you? We started out as casual friends. In the beginning, you were someone I had fun with, I was more fun when you were around. I felt relaxed and carefree when we were together. You made everything easier. I really thought that I was better with you than I was without you. I wanted you around all the time; I needed you to feel like myself.

Somewhere along the way, things started to change. When we were together, everything was in excess. We were obnoxious, loud, careless, emotional, sloppy, reckless, mean, rude, thoughtless, selfish, the list goes on and on. All the while, oblivious, without a care in the world. Because if we were together, nothing else mattered! My other friends and family didn’t like who I was becoming when you were around, which only drove me further into your arms. It was us against the world; everyone else was just jealous of the bond that we had. No one else made me feel like you did.  No one and nothing could make my bad days okay, and my good days better. I was convinced that I couldn’t live without you, I didn’t want to think about a life without you in it. I had lost myself in you. I believed I couldn’t be me without you. The more time I spent with you, the more dependent I became; I stopped putting myself, everyone and everything I cared about before you. You had become so much a part of me that I didn’t recognize who I was anymore.

I guess it’s true what they say “too much of a good thing…”

Except you were NEVER really a good thing. Being with you would make me sick, and so would being without you. I would start to regret spending time with you yet, somehow always want to be with you. I was physically ill if I couldn’t be with you. Those moments of fun and that carefree attitude seemed to (more times than not) turn into a mess of bad decisions, regret, guilt, shame, and a constant feeling of dread & doom. But, for some reason, I still couldn’t shake you. Somehow you always managed to find a way to pull me back in. I knew our relationship had gone sour, that it was taking me down a dark path. But I was afraid of what would happen without you there. I didn’t know who I was without you. I was lost. Lost with you and lost without you.

I started lying, making excuses as to why I needed you; trying to justify how I could still want something that I knew was bad for me. I did try to create some distance between us, take a break for a few days, even went for a month or so a couple different times. But it didn’t stick; I’d let my guard down thinking I had gained more self-control, something would randomly remind me of you, I’d have a bad day, I’d have a good day and then bam! Right back to it, like we hadn’t skipped a beat. Each time I took you back, it only got worse. I knew I shouldn’t have let you back in, which only made me feel more ashamed but then you’d remind me how much easier it was to just give in and not give a fuck. It was like nothing else mattered, and no one else understood me. Everyone would be disappointed, which only made it easier to isolate and shut them out. Everyone stopped believing me when I’d say we were done, and they were right. Because it was only a matter of time until I came running back. And I did. Again. And again.

I was sick of feeling empty in a relationship I had spent so much time trying to keep together. Fighting everyone and everything inside of me telling me that you were bad. And for what? Just to have a few “moments of bliss” with you before it all went to shit again? It was exhausting. There were times I would cry myself to sleep, beg and plead with whoever or whatever may be out there, to just not want you anymore. To not need you. For all of it to just stop. I was stuck in this never-ending cycle; a constant loop of fear and hopelessness and I couldn’t break free.

Until one day, I had finally had enough. We had what would be our last fight. I was done fighting. Sick of the constant back and forth, trying to convince myself that what we had was good; that if I just did this, and stopped doing that, that somehow, I could manage, and it would be okay.

It wasn’t okay. It hadn’t been for a very long time. I finally stopped trying to control you and realized that you were never what I thought you were; you could never be what I wanted you to be. Cause you’re a fucking monster. A monster that little by little stole pieces of me until I was just a shell of who I once was. You made me need you, convinced me that I couldn’t live without you. You all but destroyed everything that was good for me just to keep me tethered to you. You wore me down, beat me up, made me feel worthless and sick and fucking insane.

How could someone as strong, confident, and in control as I once was, allow something so horrible as you, keep me down? To take my time, my energy, my money, my freedom, my peace; you almost took my fucking life!!

So, I gave in, I gave up. I gave up on you. I gave up on us. I couldn’t fight anymore. I conceded. You won. Funny thing is, in the moment of admitting my defeat, the moment I stopped fighting, I became the fucking winner.

I’d be a liar if I said it wasn’t hard to let you go. You were such a huge part of my life, who I was had been tied to you for so long that I didn’t know who I would be without you. But I hated who I had become. At first, I thought about you all the time. After almost 20 years of being with you, it was nearly impossible to navigate my way through an hour, let alone a day without you. But slowly & surely, I was able to string together a couple days; a couple days turned into a week and weeks into months.

To say that I started to feel like myself again, is a lie. I had to admit and accept the fact that whoever the person I used to be was gone. I had to start the process of discovering who I was going to be without being shackled by you. Little by little, I was able to enjoy things without you. I didn’t think of you as often, and I started to believe that I truly was better off without you. I started living my life like a person I liked being, one other people liked, one I could be proud of.

It wouldn’t be fair to discount the impact you’ve had on my life. Without losing who I was to you, I would have never found this version of me. Without the reminder of how bad things were and could have been had I stayed with you, I couldn’t be as grateful as I am to be rid of you. I don’t need you anymore. I don’t want you. And my life is infinitely better without you.

So, with that, I shall say thank you. Thank you for being the worst thing that ever happened to me and the best thing I ever walked away from.

Oh, and fuck you .