The Final Line. The last thread. Goodbye to my Narcissist.

Subject: The Final Line. The last thread. Goodbye to my Narcissist.
Date: 21 Sep 2018

The final line, the last thread.

I know that in writing this letter to you, I will be sealing a future without you. That I will be crossing the last line. That is the decision I have made. I don’t understand what you would be getting out of a friendship with me anyways. According to you, I am a manipulator who brings drama and negativity into your life. I’m not “cool” enough. I can’t be your friend. It won’t ever work. All I am to you now is a regret and a mistake. You won’t remember any good things. It’s easier to remember the bad.

For a year and a half, I supported you, emotionally, and financially. I bought you food, cigarettes, alcohol and drugs when you had no money. I gave you colour, and furniture, air conditioning and clothes. I lent you money I didn’t have, close to $25000, only to have you turn around and use it to take other girls out for dinner. I did your laundry, and cleaned your house, trying to make your life less stressful, and give you less to worry about. I sat beside you on the floor when you were comatose, and held you. I sat in silence while you blocked me out, both when I was there, and when I wasn’t. I always tried to tell you how amazing, talented and wonderful you were. I took so much time off of my own work, to help you with yours, and to save you money. I even tried to be supportive while I was in the hospital.

I have watched over the last 2 months while you have given more time and energy to “her” than you did to me in the past 6 months. You wouldn’t spend more than a night with me, but have driven to Montreal several times now to see and help her. You wouldn’t walk to the beach from your condo with me, but went for a 45 minute walk with her. The saying goes “you make time for the people and things that are important to you”. Apparently she is. I, am not. I haven’t been for a very long time, if ever.

I was your secret. Never good enough to meet your friends. Never enough to meet the girls. Because they would be “mean”, you said. I’m sure you made me out to be a batshit crazy girlfriend. I’m sure they didn’t know all the things I did for you. Is “she” going with you to your friends wedding? Of course she is. Planning ahead, which was something you wouldn’t even do to go zip lining with me. So many times I heard “I can’t see the future. I can’t make any plans ahead of time”. It doesn’t matter anymore. As you so politely reminded me the other night while chastising and berating me, it’s none of my business. Fuck whoever you want, or fuck plastic. I don’t care.

You say that I am not stable and need help, but you don’t acknowledge the fact that you are even more fucked up than I am. At least I am getting the medical and professional help I need. You, on the other hand, will self diagnose and self medicate because you are too afraid of what it would look like to others to have a “permanent record” of how screwed up you really are. Your “better way” is to spend your evenings stoned, drunk, or both, in order to numb yourself, and in an attempt to feel normal. Either that, or popping pills with your “Armo partner” to get done the work you put off.

You need “the girls.” You need them to make you feel good about yourself, and to fawn over you. With them you get to dress up in your Hugo Boss suits, wear your Rolex watch, drive your Jag, and pretend that your normal. You have them so tightly wrapped around your dick that all you need to do is snap your fingers and they would fall to their knees. Oh, but that’s “only business”, right? You are a lair, and a fraud. Justify it to yourself however you want. You lie to everyone, including your own mother. You are just so afraid of failing. You are not smarter than everyone else. You have some deep seeded mommy and daddy issues, and while your childhood most likely does have something to do with it, it in no way excuses your behaviour. I should have known, having read the psych report you share with those close to you.

I was foolish to think that I mattered to you at all, or to think I was special. I was what was convenient, or needed, at the time. Nothing more. I wanted to keep the pictures of you, of us, and your texts. I no longer want them. They are a constant reminder of how many lies I believed, and how utterly stupid I was. You have treated me worse than anyone ever has. Even strangers have offered more support and empathy than you ever did. I lost a baby, our baby, and you didn’t even say a word. Not “I’m sorry you have had to deal with it alone”, nothing! I let you, over and over, make me feel small, and insignificant, and worthless. I dropped my guard, and my standards, trying to justify your behaviours. I wanted to understand where others may not have. I wanted to show you support and loyalty, and be strong for you when you couldn’t. I gave so much of me to you, that I had nothing left for myself. I will never do that again. Not for anyone. I would have spent my life with you, supporting you. I almost took my life, twice, because of you.

You are a mean, selfish, vindictive, alcoholic, narcissistic, sociopath. Your world revolves around you, and no one else. You use people, and when they no longer serve a purpose to you, or abide by your rules, you cut them out of your life. Only, you can’t really let them have to throw them little bits of hope that lets them think perhaps they still have some meaning to you. I no longer want those bits. I no longer believe them. You said you “love” me and that I was your “best friend”? Bullshit. You have absolutely no fucking clue what love or friendship means then. It’s definitely not what you showed or shared with me.

So go ahead and “block me”. Burn my things, or throw them away, like you have done to me. Or keep them, and show them to the next girl, while you tell them how badly you were treated by me, and how horrible I was. It doesn’t matter. You don’t have to worry though, as I have absolutely no intention of ever contacting you. I don’t want you in my life anymore. You have cost me too much of myself. I never want to see or hear from you ever again. I do forgive you though, and wish you well, and I say that with utmost sincerity. I love you, but I also hate you. I hate you, and I wish that I had never met you.

I’m crossing the final line, and cutting the last thread. Goodbye.