The last one

Do you remember that pretty card I brought you from Israel? On the back I wrote how wonderful I thought you were - only positive things. I am looking for this card for more than an hour, crying because I can't find it. I decided already a few days ago that I wanted to post it here and say this:

Jule, even though no person in my life has ever hurt me the way you have, and I think it could have gone differently with a little more effort and this scenario was not necessary at all, and I think you still owe me a lot of explanation (or do you think it's nice to hear someone say they're scared of you?), and even though I am pretty fucking angry at you for all that and probably will be for a long time, I still mean what I wrote on this card, and I hope you will manage to become really happy.

(card)

The only words you'll receive from me from now on, will be practical ones via e-mail. (Apart from the inevitable drunken messages maybe, but I will try my best not to do that.) I will mail you later - maybe not today - about how I want to arrange things (and please, please think about what's best for me for once, and just do what I ask you to, even if it's not practical for you - I think I deserve that). I will leave this blog open, if one day, maybe once the therapy is working (I hope it will), you want to share or explain some things, please do. I will probably not answer, but I will read it. And who knows, maybe in a few months I'll be able to have a coffee with you without crying. I wouldn't count on it.

Farewell, Jule. I love you. I will never have gin tonic in a basement again.