Things I Won't Say To You

I miss you, but not the you that you are now. The man that I loved so much no longer exists, and that hurts more than I can express. I don’t know when it happened or how much of it was my fault, but this person that you are now is a stranger to me.

When we were together, you told me that you were an “actions over words” kind of person. You used this as an excuse not to meet my needs. You used my mental illness as an excuse not to meet my needs.

Words are my love language and I needed you to talk to me. I needed you to tell me that you cared about me. I needed you to be affectionate with me. I needed you to share and be vulnerable with me. Instead, you avoided important conversations, you confided in other people, you kept things from me.

You behaved in ways that made me insecure and anxious and were then upset when I needed reassurance. You thought that I should just “know” that you cared. It was okay that you didn’t tell me, because you showed me. But you didn’t, really.

I don’t think you know how anxious I was when things started to fall apart. You asked me for a few days of space. I gave it to you. We agreed not to talk over the weekend and it turned into a week. You didn’t respond to my messages, you didn’t tell me you needed more time, nothing. I was in fight or flight that entire time. I could barely eat or sleep. I couldn’t function.

Things were hard for you? Things were stressful for you? Because of my mental illness? How do you think it felt for me? When I needed you the most, you abandoned me. When I finally got the help I needed and started to improve, you decided that it didn’t matter. It was too late. I let myself be miserable for your sake and you gave up on us.

You’re an “actions over words” kind of person. You tell me that you care, that you want to be my friend. But you don’t respond to half my messages. You disappear in the middle of conversations. All of our interactions are shallow and superficial. So, what should I think?