You were my security and my inhibitor; my friend and my foe; my biggest weakness and my unintentional strength. You were both my fetus and my parent — I created you, just as you had molded me into who I am. I never thought I could simultaneously hate and love something so much, especially something that’s not tangible. Though at night, I often found myself holding you in my arms, while you lulled a sad tune and squeezed tight, promising to never let go. For a while, I kept that promise and hid it from the world. Gilded by booming laughs and dimply smiles, I held you close to me.

You were so simple, at first, and so easy to get along with. For the weeks that you would leave, I’d let you go, while writing pretty papers of painful pining poetry and awaiting your daring return.

I do admit now, my romanticized ideals of you are my biggest shame and my biggest regret, but I just couldn’t live without you.

Then something changed. You drilled a deeper hole into my psyche and filled it with more weariness. We were a toxic, inseparable pair of lovers that wreaked havoc only on each other. It was strange, really. My brain had become part of this routine despondency that I found refuge and security in. I had become accustomed to the coldness, the darkness, and the solitude because you had tricked me into believing that they were normal. You kept me safe, in a sense. I loved the robotic way I’d pass through my days, not really feeling anything at all, except utter emptiness. You were the one thing I had in my life for so long that life almost felt strange whenever you weren’t by my side. I felt incomplete without you; like without you breathing over my shoulder and gripping my neck, I couldn’t be myself.

But who was I, really? I couldn’t remember a time or recall a feeling before you chained my wrist to yours and swallowed the key. This “me”, with you, was the only “me” I knew (and the only me I thought I’d ever know). I’d look back at smiling pictures and not recognize the toothy grin. I’d question, “who is that?” knowing that you were my Kafka, and that you penned me as your Gregor, revealing to me the strange absurdity of life and existential thoughts of nature.

But it dawned upon me that I never questioned, “how do I get her back?” and I know now that the lack of questioning meant I had swum so far out into the ocean, that there was a low chance of returning. Maybe I didn’t want to return. Maybe I wanted to be lost forever.

Safety. Security. Solitude.

I’m not sure how I opened my eyes to the madness that was manifesting around me. I’m not sure how I began to realize that my life was in a downward spiral that I had lost complete control of years ago. But I’m thankful that the realization finally did happen. And so, day by day, I worked at cutting off the chains like a 21st-century reincarnation of Kunta Kinte, but vowed that when I ran through the dark woods towards the light, I would not be ensnared by the madness again.

This is my goodbye letter to you, old friend. I’m running away and gaining speed with every new day. I’m dreaming about a day when I don’t have to run anymore and I pray that my feet do not become weary during the marathon to happiness.

I’m so ashamed that I gave you the power to break me. Like Sylvia, I ached to be horizontal, and I sang a mad love song to you like wedding vows. I guess people are irrational when they’re in love. Now that I am happily vertical, it’s hard to imagine why I loved you. But, man, I really did. I loved you, I loved you, I loved you, I loved you — but I don’t love you anymore. I had to choose: either I risk my life for you or self-sacrifice the old me for a renewed me.

I chose the latter.

I can’t love you because I love myself.

I have been filled with the spirit of resilience and I am alive with the refreshing waters of joy that run through my veins. You are not my master and I am not your game.

I’m better now, and not even the cynics nor the critics can deny my growth.

I’m still running and I’m still breathing, in pace with the beats of a warrior’s drums.

Thump, Thump, Thump.

Try and catch me.

Thump, Thump, Thump.

Signed,

Lanette