Dear F Victim,

I suppose I should apologize, so here goes:

I’m sorry for saying that you remind me of your dad.  Perhaps I should have kept that to myself. I’m also sorry for never telling you that I am not your mother, and that no one else will, or should, baby you like she does.

I’m sorry that you cry on all your birthdays (or should I assume you only cry on birthdays with me), regardless of whether i spent money I did not have and an entire sweltering afternoon lugging cheese and ice and wine and a pretty cardigan around in search of the perfect shady picnic spot, or whether I drove to your place in the night, only to be driven away.

I’m sorry for having my heart broken, so many times I can’t keep count, for not running away and not turning back the moment I discovered that you were a liar and a cheater. I’m sorry that I made a mess and did not leave.

I’m sorry I don’t call when we fight, and I’m sorry this happened on your birthday.

I’m sorry you never saw any reason to apologize for anything.

Most of all, I’m sorry that these aren’t the things that stand out when I think about you. And I’m sorry we let this happen again.

So Self, give up/try harder, think this way now:

You had to force everything along in this relationship, undo all the poorly wrapped lies, pry out all the unsatisfying answers. She never thought you deserved proper anythings, like goodbyes, like years ago, when she disappeared a day before your birthday and on the day itself (“no call, no message, nothing”). She disappeared for a whole year before you met again in the corridor and she lied her way back in — our bodies in that room with the blank walls and the stark white bed. You said ‘no’ a hundred times and never ‘yes’ but it happened anyway.

She will always be the one to leave because all this ever was to her was “easy” and “convenient”. However poorly you managed, you loved her, and she loved her, and that’s all she will ever love.

And she will always paint herself the victim.

It isn’t worth it.