Dear Psychopath

I do not hate you.

I did though. For a long time I hated you, some of that time was when we were together. I loathed you. When I discovered the depth of your betrayal I deconstructed. My whole being... my soul, body, mind... I just dissolved into madness and dark. There were times where I wanted to rip your still beating heart out and eat it whole while you watched. There were times where I reached out to anyone who I thought would listen to tell them what you are. There were times I screamed at you, times I begged you to make the pain stop.

There were times I cried myself to sleep at night.

Then there was nothing but silence. No one would talk to me. You were done with me. You left me abandoned and crying. You told me what we had wasn't real in the most sterile voice that comes most easily to you. I sobbed. I begged. I screamed, "IT WAS REAL TO ME!"

But time passed and the only thing to fill it was nothingness.
So why don't I hate you? There are several answers, none of which are what you think. I do not still love you. I do not miss you. I do not want you. The truth is that when the flames died down and there was nothing left but ash, something grew within me. It was strength, determination, and most of all it was the ability to let go. You didn't want to, nor did you know, but you gave me a gift by leaving. The gift of relief, of freedom from your prison.

You see, I do not hate you, I pity you; not in the way that you want. I don't pity you because I think you had such a bad life. Nor do I pity you because of your abusive father, idiot mother, or the heartache you said you've gone through. I pity you because you are a soulless creature whose only joy is causing confusion and pain. How tiresome it must be to balance different women and different lies. How lonely it must be to have nothing but your coldness and enjoyment of suffering to keep you warm at night. You are not a human. You will never experience real love, joy, heartache, longing, or grief. You will not be bettered by the lives you touch and you won't enrich the lives of others. You will not gaze at the stars to ponder the vastness of the universe and wonder "why", you will look up and only see yourself.

You did not outsmart me. I admit, I find solace knowing that when you realize this it will make you squirm with regret. You did not best me or outwit me. I knew every step of the way what you were, what you were capable of, and what you were doing. What blinded me wasn't ignorance, stupidity, or naivety; it was hope. You relied on hope, an emotion that you will never fully understand, to make you powerful. But, it doesn't really make you powerful does it? You don't know how to feel it. You don't know what it is. You don't know why it exists or what it's good for. It doesn't make you smart, witty, or insightful to play with someone's hope. It makes you a little boy with a loaded gun.

You will never get to experience life the way I do. You will be forever stuck in an existence where the point of life is sheer pettiness and games. That makes you insignificant. It makes you obsolete. It makes you boring. You are a shallow pool and I am a deep ocean.

Goodbye.