Carla
It's taken me a month to write this. Not because it's taken me a month to get over my anger at you but because it's taken me a month to leave my flat again. It's taken me four weeks to even realise I still have a life without you in it. A life I don't want all that much, but a life all the same.
I had so much to say, Carla. I had so much to say and you just wouldn't let me speak. You left before hearing me out. You said I would never be able to forgive you and I won't. But not for the kiss, not for that Carla. I'd have forgiven you that. I'd probably have forgiven you anything in those months because you weren't you then. But you got on a plane and you left. You made it so I couldn't forgive you but this is not on me, this is on you. The end of our relationship, the life we were building crashing down at our feet is on you.
Not because you kissed another man in a drunken blur but because you did the worse thing you could have done to me. You left. That's unforgivable.
You said you'd hit self-destruct. You said you wanted to hurt yourself and this was the only way you knew how but it didn't have to be like this. You could have gone on and on trying to destroy you and destroy me, destroy us but at the end of the day, my love, at the end of every day I would have picked up the pieces.
I'd always have picked up your pieces.
Now you're gone you've turned me into something I never wanted to be again. After my split from Leanne I went to a dark place, a place I never wanted to see again but a place I can't seem to escape. You left so you wouldn't hurt me anymore but I think you're a coward. You left because you hurt people and you push them away and you blame yourself because you think you're a monster. I never used to think that but I guess my opinion of you has declined rather greatly in these last few weeks.
You left because it was the easy way out. Because to stay and let me love you, to repair yourself and us, it meant taking a leap of faith and I will not let you tell me that leaving was harder than staying because I have stayed and I am here and I am not okay. I'm stuck with so much hope and so much love and so many plans and they have no where to go. They just float around with me in my ghost of a flat with a thousand memories of your face and they never leave.
Because you left and now I have to get over that. You let me go but I still look for pieces of you in everyone I see.
People tell me I put you on a pedestal. They say I was blinded and I half wish that was true. I wish I hadn't known what a beautiful mess you are. I wish I hadn't seen all your hugely dangerous flaws and your tendency to destroy good things and the way you hide exactly how you feel 90% of the time. I wish I hadn't seen them but I did. I saw them and I loved them anyway. I loved you for being as flawed as me and flawed in ways I couldn't even imagine. I loved you but I guess a lot of people have loved you over the years and I was a fool to think I would be the last.
Whoever loves you next, I hope they know that when you're sad, you don't really want to talk. You just want to be held and for someone to say it's going to be okay, even if neither of you believe it. I hope he knows to never wake you up without a coffee and I hope he knows exactly how to make it even if you do pretend you don't have a sweet tooth. I hope he knows how you take your tea and which wine you drink and exactly when you need each one.
I hope he understands that you're just moody sometimes. Sometimes you're just sad. Sometimes you're so happy you could dance on the tables without a care in the world. I hope he dances on the tables with you. You deserve to dance on tables.
I hope he doesn't tell you what to do because you'll only do the opposite anyway. I hope he knows your ticklish spot on your stomach and how cold your feet get when you don't wear socks. I hope he eats chips on the street with you but knows that sometimes, you're just not hungry. I hope when you're not hungry he always brings you crisps.
I barely got to know you, Carla but I hope he gets to know you better. I hope he knows everything I didn't but everything I wanted to.
I would have forgiven you but in the end, you couldn't forgive yourself and I guess that's the problem. I guess that will always be the problem.
You were my beautiful mess. We were a beautiful mess. I'm not sure I'll ever get over loving you, I'm not sure anyone gets over loving Carla Connor.
Whether that's a good thing or not, I'll let you decide.
Keep safe, keep living.
Yours always,
Nick.