April 7, 2009

letter #7

to all the exboyfriends of my life,

do you want to know why I left you? well, I'll tell you. I left you because you would come home drunk and fall asleep in our bed reeking of beer; you would lie heavily on your back and snore so loudly I could feel it through the bed. I left you because even though you were so brave about some big, remarkable things, you were terrified of every day life. I left you because you wouldn't let me walk down the street without holding your hand, and sometimes a girl wants her own goddamned space. I left you because no matter what I said, you couldn't understand how much my job means to me, and how it's that way for everyone who works in the arts, and how it's passion and not workaholism that keeps us there despite it all. I left you because you were so terrified to go into that divey little pub, even though there was nothing in the world wrong with it. I left you because you wouldn't let me stay up late and read, or write, or practice piano, and I wondered what girl you thought you were dating. I left you because next to you, I looked fat, and that's really saying something. I left you because you were pretentious. I left you because you were so jealous of me I had to apologize to you when I won a part in the school musical. I left you because you never bothered to tell me you smoked pot, even though I wouldn't have minded at all. I left you because your first reaction was always "no way." I left you because you were too far away. I left you because you had to be close to me all the time. I left you because you didn't know me, you didn't bother to know me, you didn't want to know me, I didn't want you to know me. I left you because staying with you felt like closing the door on every opportunity in my life. I left you because there were horses, music, sports, movies, books, writing, poems, friends, bars, camping, road trips, languages, countries, and I couldn't share them with you. I didn't want to share them with you.

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