I feel very alone.

Listen, Lucy.

I feel very alone. I just got out of a long-term relationship and I know it was for the best and that he wasn't someone I should spend my life with, but it still hurts. It hurts because I thought I was going to spend my life with him. It hurts because I thought he was committed and that he deeply loved me in the same way I loved him. It hurts because he got caught up in another girl and couldn't even decide what to do. It hurts because he wasn't mature enough to handle who I've grown to be and who I'm becoming, and it hurts because I was blindsided by it all. It hurts because I thought he had integrity and character and instead I find out that the person I've loved for so many years isn't who I thought he was.

I built my dreams for the future around our being best friends for life and growing old together. I stayed faithful to him and I was dedicated to honestly and forgiveness and pursuing truth together. I loved him with my whole heart. And he throws it all away because he's friends with someone else, because he would rather play the "what if?" game instead of pursue "I do."

So here I am now, feeling weird and confused and lonely and scared and confident and proud and angry and sorrowful and melancholy and unfocused and whirring and exhausted and I just want to undrown myself. I hate him for causing all of this.

I know it's for the best though. I'm not blaming myself. I can't control other people's reactions to my honesty and vulnerability. I get that it's too much for some people and they aren't ready to dive so deep. I thought we were. I think that's part of why it hurts so much.

And now, Lucy, I'm trying to write a paper that's due in two days and I'm struggling because I can't even focus on it and I'm longing for the simplicity and security of a long-term relationship. How do you try to focus when someone has beaten your heart with faithlessness and cruelty? When he's compared your relationship to sample sizes in statistics? When he wanted to approach loving you like test driving a car and you had the strength to say that is never okay and walk away from it? When he told you he wished he hadn't told you about how he was struggling with the other girl and waited it out, trying both relationships longer? What kind of person treats a human being like that? Does he think that's okay, Lucy? Does he think that all the problems will just go away? They won't, because they're his problems, and he's going to have to face them, sooner or later. I just wish I didn't have to be the roadkill from him trying to find his way through his narcissistic games.

I'm not a car you test drive. I'm a human. And I know that I'm beautiful, because God made me, and he's growing me into a woman after His heart. Lucy, he didn't see that. He didn't appreciate me for who I am and my loves of learning and the arts and poetry and vulnerability and authenticity and joy. He couldn't handle the melancholy or the angst or the puzzling through anything I could worry about. He didn't love what I love, and he didn't love me. I wish he wouldn't have dug so deep into my soul before realizing he wasn't ready for how deep relationships actually are.

Why did he have to run me over before realizing he wasn't ready for this? Love isn't a game. Relationships aren't new appliances you research and test out. Life isn't about "what if?" or waffling between shiny new no-committment side flings and the real relationship you've committed to. Life is about pursuing God and finding the good, growing into the person God has made you and supporting others along the way. It's about loving and being vulnerable and being so real people can't stand it and telling the truth about your anxiety and depression and being okay with having to be on medication. It's about pursuing the ultimate Truth and learning about the world you live in and reading thoughtful essays and writing somber poetry and listening to Beethoven quartets that make you cry. It's about running blindly into the future and trusting that it will work out and being loyal to your loved ones and hugging your family and crying in public and singing in your apartment. It's about sledding and running and jumping and screaming and yelling and sleeping and resting and rejoicing. It's about adventuring and staying at home and eating home cooked food and playing with dogs and dancing with your vacuum. It's about being real and imperfect and YOU.

He never really got that.

So now I'm living in the unknown and there are good days and there are hard days. Today is a hard day. It sucks. But I know there IS good out there, because there is God. And someday I will look back on this and thank God for it, even more than the "thank you for getting me out of this before I'm trapped in it for life" kind of way. Someday I'll forgive the boy I have been referring to as "scum" and will actually truly pray for his wellbeing and happiness. Today may not be that day, but God is still here today. Lucy, thank you for listening to me. This has been such an emotional rollercoaster and I can't wait to get off of it, but I can't skip over it. I can only go through it. Thanks for being there along the way, Lucy.