You once asked me who I was, Paul.

At best, I am fickle, unapologetic, fickle, insatiable, selfish — in every single way those words could mean.  Long ago, there was a version of me that wasn’t so depressed, run down by the world, and desperate for someone to cry to.  Thus, I feel you were in love with the old me.  The nervous, curious, ardent me.  The one who still read comic books, played video games and just wanted to be around you.  There is still a part of me that is like this, somewhere, and you single-handley managed to breath life into it.

Seeing you again just those first few days felt like drinking ambrosia.  Every time you spoke to me, a memory of us was simultaneously reawakened and re-engraved into my heart.  The things which initially drove me away from you so long ago somehow managed to endear me to you.  I was on cloud nine, and I certainly didn’t want to come down.  People thought I was nuts for being so into you again so quickly, but I told them that I liked you and to shut their mouths because there was nothing they could do about it.  But then, again, it only took something to change between us to change me.

I felt you fall out of love with me.

Our relationship changed dramatically two months ago when you let me move in.  From there, I felt us grow closer to each other for the first weeks.  Then something happened, something changed, I wish I could pinpoint it.  It was around Hallowe’en.  You became so dark and distant. It was at this point I became disillusioned with you and ultimately, being in love with you.  I couldn’t say ‘I love you,’ anymore; something was different.  Out of everything that changed, it hurt me the most you didn’t even want to sleep in the same bed as me.  The greatest joy I had while staying at your house was just holding you, and you denied me even that.  But maybe you wanted me out of your life.  If that’s the case, I got the hint, I’m leaving.

I behaved the way I did because I felt we were no longer a unit, and you no longer had faith in me or us.  I couldn’t feel or predict what you were feeling.  I didn’t know if you were going to come to bed any given night.  I couldn’t trust if I were even going to see you on your days off.  I couldn’t tell if you even still wanted to see my face when you got home from work.   We no longer flowed together.  We didn’t have make love to nurture passion I had grown to know.  We didn’t share time laughing together as stupid pictures anymore.  What happened to us?  Why did you push me away?  Was it because I was unemployed?  Homeless?  Broke?  Depressed?  I need to know so that I can maybe prove you my worth (as pitiful as that is.)

But I don’t want you to think I’m blaming you for the way I behaved.  I made my bed, and I must lie in it.  To go into further detail about my behavior, I was too afraid to ask you why our relationship had changed.  I just knew you would say ‘Well it’s because you’ve been here too long and I don’t want you around me anymore.’  I wasn’t ready to break up with you; I couldn’t bear that sort of pain just yet, after how RJ told me that he was mean to me because he didn’t want me in his life anymore.  I let my pride get in the way of leaving your house to go stay at my grandparents until I found a different place to live and get started working agin.  So instead of just facing the truth, or talking to you about it, I acted on my own because I knew deep down we were no longer one.

My life is a mess, nobody should have to clean up after me — especially not you.  You helped me out, and what do you get in return?  A girl with issues that run deeper than the Marianas Trench and depression that has done nothing more than make me fallacious and shallow.  There is a part of my personality that perfectly maligns with each of the seven sins.  The things that are wrong with me often cause the people around me greater distress than myself.  If only I could really come to understand just what sort of wakes I’ve caused; this is the first situation where I’m truly aware of it.  I feel like this whole effed up situation could have been avoided if I just asked you to reassure me that you still love me no matter what happens.  And now, here I am, asking for just that only under different circumstances.

I feel a great sense of remorse for the way things are ending.  In fact, I don’t even know if we’re through.  All I know is that I’m not through with you, but you aren’t giving me any sort of indication of what’s going on.  It’s doing my nut in.  I can’t keep thinking about whether or not you’re going to forgive me, how badly I screwed up, and what I would give to take it all back.  I’ve cried all the tears I can at this point.  I’ve eaten all the cookie dough ice cream my stomach can handle.  I’ve taken showers so hot, turning my skin red, in hopes it will help me sleep better.  I’ve done my best to steel myself in the event you can’t forgive me.  I’ve written down all the clashing emotions inside of me.  What else can I do?  At this point, all I can do get on with the rest of my life without you and learn my lesson.

The restaurant opens up next month, I’ll be serving there.  My new house is across the street from North Campus Video, in the courtyard.  My roommate’s name is Angela.  We live with two cats, named Burrrrrrito and Emily.  I’ll be going to the Blue Danube every day that I don’t work at 1 to 1:30pm, but just for a PBR.  I’ll be waiting for you.  I will probably be getting a new number here soon to reflect my new life.  But my Google Voice will always be open to you.

Incomplete without you,

Alise