I had come to consider the love I have for you to be my greatest accomplishment. I have wanted my entire life to love from the sweetest, most genuine part of me and to have that love be received. I feel that you have taken my love, my accomplishment, my hope and shoved it back at me, calling it poison. That it’s not wanted. That I’m not wanted. That there’s something wrong with me. I have no hope anymore. No focus. Just nothing.
I am outnumbered by an army of people who don’t even know me and don’t know what’s what telling you that I’m the problem—AND YOU ARE SO IMPRESSIONABLE. You listen to a therapist who thinks it’s appropriate to make judgments about third parties they’ve never met. I’m selfish. I have a hole in my heart. Blah fucking blah blah blah. You listen to anyone, actually. It’s just that no one in your life has any real clue about who I am, and if you stop and think about that for one second, you might realize that’s kind of important.
Tell the anti-Cassie army how we talk. Tell them how I care for you. Tell them how I make word searches for you of our relationship lexicon. How I embroider the sleeve of your sweatshirt. How I will pet you for hours. Tell them about the spa day. Tell them about how I will read philosophy with you. Tell them how we are together. Tell them about the burrito. Tell them I have made it a goddamn point to make loving you into a form of art. Tell them about this blog. Tell them my past. Tell them my future. If everyone is going to scapegoat me, let them know all my fucking offenses. Let them know what I’m actually about and where I’m coming from.
I told you back in Utah that your relationship with me would affect your marriage. I told you that actions have consequences and that circumstances change. You proceeded to want to be with me with that knowledge. I have trusted you, a person who was fully aware of what he was doing every step of the way, with my heart—and I told you from the get-go that my heart was fragile.
Now, you want to point a finger and ask me how I can plead with you to honor our love when you’re telling me your desire is to work on your marriage. You say this now, after essentially training and conditioning me for our entire relationship to accept the apparent dichotomies in your life. I went beyond accepting them. I loved them because I love you, and loving you, for me, meant loving all of you, even the things that did not make sense. I have loved you wholly when you couldn’t love yourself wholly, and I’m being treated as if there’s something wrong with me for doing that.
Fuck all this fucking bullshit.
How could you sit there and cry at me for not giving you what you need when I expressly asked you to not upset me in advance of the bar exam and the ethics exam in march? I’m sorry, but my passing the bar is every bit as important as any attempt you wanna make on fixing shit with your marriage. Your failure to acknowledge that astounds me.
All you have to do is read this blog to see what I’ve been about all along. You can see where I’ve said I love you wholly. See the blog post titled “This Bell Will Ring.” You can see where I’ve said I’ve followed my heart. There are too many blog entries to name where I’ve talked about that. You can see where I’ve said that I understood that, if nothing else, I was in your life because you wanted something that was just for you. Please refer to the post titled “Angels Landing.”
I have poured everything of myself into loving you like I have never loved another person on this earth. You are not just telling me that you can’t handle it, but that it actually causes you pain. I didn’t even ask for your everything in exchange for my everything. I am suddenly the bad person. Everything is my fault. Words cannot describe the extent to which this destroys me inside. It will follow me for the rest of my life.
I needed tenderness so badly. You gave it to me. Do not stop.