There it was. A garbage bag filled with Him. The notebooks he had written to me in…pages filled with lies, two t-shirts with his scent on them, the white dress, the pair of camo boxers…everything was being trashed.
I sat down and wrote a note to Kristyn so I wouldn’t have to make the final decision. I couldn’t throw him away. My heart wouldn’t let me.
“Do with it as you see fit. I just can’t.”
Dramatic? Yes. But in drama there is art and in art there is beauty.
It had been exactly two months since I had heard fake Pete’s voice. I still thought about him on a daily basis, but I no longer cried. Most of my thoughts centered around his lies. They were so detailed. He had portrayed all of his multiple personalities so well. He was the best friend, the brave soldier, and the soul-mate.
Kristyn’s only response these days is “but he isn’t real.” And while I understand this, I also have to actively remind myself there is no such thing as perfect love.
I hope for the day a man’s love will be my kind of perfect though. I hope that one day I will be loved despite my flaws.
And on my lonely nights, when I’m craving him…I still read the emails. Sifting through 1,423 emails about work, love, life…Charlie…it’s heartbreaking to know that none of it, not a single word was honest.
I’m ashamed to say I still hope for an email from him. It’s embarrassing to admit that I miss his laugh. The vocabulary he emitted so naturally from his deceptive lips was music to my ears. His darkness was parallel to mine, and the light he portrayed was something to envy.
I know deep down there is some part of me that will always be reserved for him…my Catfish
Sometimes I imagine his voice telling me goodnight. And then suddenly I have a resounding mental note: for all you know Jessica it could’ve been a butch lesbian with a voice box…