I moved halfway across the country and lived with you. No job prospects, left everything behind.

We had a shot at it a decade ago and we both thought this was our chance to make it work. It was great for two years, but after that your life started wearing me down. I was far from my kids, dealing with yours. You were mostly unemployed and had the luxury of doing most anything you wanted. I learned a lot about myself during this time. I learned I stayed silent to please people without them ever knowing it. It just built resentment. I learned I don't want to deal with kids, which is probably why I never fought for custody of mine.

Now, granted that I imagined this ending everytime you lost your ever-loving mind and had an emotional breakdown. Every single time your mental issues got a hold of you, I got colder and more distant. I thought it was all an act, a show, something to refocus the attention on you. I helped you through a divorce, college, and ultimately landing a job. All the while, I half waited for the relationship to end.

Then, it quite suddenly did. We were talking about moving, I asked about a joint checking account we never got. I made big purchases. Then, randomly, you said no to something. You said you didn't see this going anywhere. I didn't say anything, because I agreed. You went cold for weeks. I finally asked what was wrong and you played like you wanted it to work. I knew what was happening, because I'd been thinking about it. It turns out I was dreading it.

I looked for a place to live, you worried about me having furniture. I found out you were at some guys house at 2 in the morning while I was home with your kids. That you were there at least 3 more times, once when you lied to me and your best friend about where you were. I confronted you, and you lied. I finally asked if it was over, probably a month and a half after you decided it was over. We were sharing a bed this whole time. You said you didn't see a point in staying together if I moved. I started sleeping in the guest room.

Then it went downhill fast. I tried to isolate my life from you, you got increasingly crazy. Paranoid. Angry. It was a tenuous tightrope walk. You stopped having me grocery shop, told me to make my food separately from feeding your kids. Then, you stormed in and accused me of spying on you. That was it. I left.

I packed everything at 10 PM on a weekday and left. I've been staying in hotels ever since until I get into my new apartment.

The odd thing is that I have imagined this for quite some time. I was mentally prepared in a way, but I was just so angry at how childishly you handled it. Making me pursue, getting angry with me, lying to me. Why not just be honest? I felt great when I left, but I keep thinking back to the first two years. What happened there? Where did it go wrong? Were we both using each other to get through shit? I don't know.

I know I could never go back to you. I doubt I could be friends with you again. You ended it poorly, it could have been fine. It wasn't. I wish you well, that you take this chance to learn about yourself as an individual and not as part of a couple. Codependency is something we both have issues with, and I hope you break the cycle and find happiness. Deal with the demons you have. I know I will be. It's just a shame you had to become one of the demons.