you are not welcome back, ever.
i don’t care if i am ‘always special’ to you if the way i am treated is ‘unimportant and invisible.’
so when you are thankful for all of the things i have done for you, i hope you keep in mind how part of that included foolishly and selfishly destroying my family.
i’m ashamed that scarlett knows your name. and i’m embarrassed that i buckled when you asked to talk on the phone with her or for me to talk with dom about introducing you to scarlett. or agreeing when you asked me to see if my mom or will would be willing to meet you.
i’m embarrassed with how many hours i spent in a gym trying to keep my body comperable to the scholarship athletes 12 years my junior who surrounded you.
i can’t tell if i’m angrier at you or myself, because you’re the one who spent years taking from me, leaving for someone else and coming back when it turned out he wasn’t me,
or myself for letting you do it over and over. so while you enjoy your new boy while i live apart from my daughter, i hope you also remember me every time you lie to people about:
where you were all of those weekends
where you got that quilt
why you like golden state and where you got that autographed steph curry ticket
who was with you when you got your acorn tattoo
who supported you and tried to get you to a doctor for years about your depression
who it was you went to when your parents or friends hurt you or let you down
where you got that original nintendo
what that out-of-date turkish public transportation pass or that extra apartment key are doing on your keychain
the inspiration of naming your dog ‘polly’
who bought you that silver ring you always wear
what drove you to create a blog with a clever name and to write
or when you lie by ommission in not telling your therapist about me or your other boyfriends or your closest friends,
well let’s just say it took you treating me this way, quite ironically, to understand how much i took from and hurt my once wife.
i’m mad at you, and i wish i’d never met you. i guess at least thanks for showing me how sick i was so i would try to get better. i’m so mad at myself for how much i sacrificed and wasted on you. i miss my daughter so much.
i don’t and can’t care if you don’t like me after reading this. it won’t matter anyway since i will never again respond to you, much less initiate.
i had to suffer through realizing it was always all about you and your image – not just our relationship but how you treat others – for me to see the horror and ugliness in how i had been treating all of my everyone elses.
the worst part is i still miss and think of you. but i don’t miss how you treated me, how your phone and friends and the affirmation of like buttons were more important, or how you could call me your soul mate and love of your life while shoving me away in the same motion.
i hope you eventually like yourself enough to be honest about all of you, because right now it just looks like all i taught you to do was take what you want, lie about it, and ignore the consequences.
oh i’m also gonna take down all of the poems i ever wrote you and get rid of the songs i recorded for you. i’m glad there’s nothing left at my place for you to ask me to mail back, again.
i loved you very much.
– mr orr/joel
edit to add that of course i found this by accident moments after clicking publish. i cried very hard and made myself throw it away.