Do you realize I write this because I know you read it? Do you know that this is the only way I can tell you how I feel without exactly having to tell you? I know you know this, or you wouldn't read it at all. You have a view into my life to which I purposefully let you be priviledge. Everything I write here right now is for you. So let me be completely honest for a moment. I tried to never hold anything back from you, but I know I was unsuccessful. I was protective and guarded with my feelings, for a very long time, which I know was a major mistake in our relationship.

I was so angry, for so long, for the pain that I perceived that you inflicted on me. I wanted so much from you, so many things that I knew you weren't able to give me. And then I blamed you for that. I am so sorry for doing that to you. I told you on our fourth anniversary that I loved you for what you taught me -- that the world is bigger than just me. You taught me to look outside of myself, every day that I was with you, and I wish I had been able to show that to you so much earlier in our relationship.

It makes me infintely sad that you didn't return my messages this weekend. This Saturday we were supposed to be together, attending the wedding of a person that we both love. I spent the night on my couch, thinking of you, here and there imagining what we might be doing, were things different. Did you imagine it, too? I thought of us dancing, of me talking to your mother (I miss her so much), of me embracing your family, that I for so long imagined myself a part of, of which for so long I imagined myself a member.

When I see you now, I try so hard to be strong, to remind myself that we're "friends." But the truth is, I feel tortured. I saw Fletch last week, and I wanted so badly to be casual (and I probably was). He knew we were no longer a couple, and he told me he was newly engaged, and I was so happy for him, and so sad for us. So sad for us.

I keep having these flashes, of us talking about our future, about our children, about our life together in thirty years. I am, seriously, so sad. I miss you in my life. I miss so much. I know the decision we made was in our best interest, but I just can't deny the fact that I miss you. I know I told you this two weeks ago, the last time we saw each other, but I need you to know that I'm still in pain. I know that you probably still are, too, and I want you to know that you're not alone.

I've been purposefully trying to distance myself from you. When I went down to the Chuck with Jordana, I thought I'd be alright seeing you, but I wasn't. It was wonderful to tell you how I was feeling, and to get some validation from you about the fact that I was hurting. I can't tell you how relieved I was to hold you and tell you that I love you, because, truly, I do. And it meant so much to me to hear you tell me that you love me, too. But I realize that to come there and see you, it really was a little bit of torture. I don't know what to do with myself around you. I try to act normal and accommodating, but the truth is, I'm sad. And I can't do it right now. I wish that you would call me so I could tell you this is in person, but, truth be told, this is a little bit easier.

I missed you at the Yankee's game last week. It was great to see your brother, but I had a hard time that night. I was angry when you told me that you were opting to go to Green Harbor instead of coming to the game. But I realized that was because I was looking forward to seeing you, and I was hurt (although I totally understand your reasoning, and I was definitely sad that I wasn't able to be there for Katie's birthday) that you chose Katie over me. I got over it.

And I got your im's last Friday. I was sick, staying at home for the day, and I logged on later on in the morning. It made me so sad that your aunt died. The last time I remember seeing her, she was so full of life, despite the oxygen. It just hit home how much of your life I'm missing, how much I was inately a part of for so long, that I'm now excluded from. Jen's wedding made that even more apparent.