My hero complex is so stimulated but I must manage it in a healthy way.

My dear, you are a monster, and this know to be true. Though it is not your fault you were raised by monsters, now as an adult it is entirely up to you to sort this out. It cannot come from me, or anyone else, or a knight and shining armor, for that would create a codependency that is unbreakable.

I wish I could fix you. I wish I could repare your beautifully dysfunctional brain–but I cannot. You must navigate your own way out of this mess. It is not your fault, but nevertheless it is the mess you are in.

I wish I could tell you how much I love you. I wish I could sweep you off your feet and shower you with all kinds of affection and attention–but wishing something doesn’t make it so.

I accept who and what you are, but I must put myself first and move on to the next. I wish you the greatest luck with everything. You so deserve happiness. You are not evil; you are an abused abuser. This does not absolve you of what things you have done and will continue to do to others, but I accept your humanity.

If I was with you right now, and if it were actually safe to do so, I would wrap you in my arms and fill you with my love and warmth. I would get laughs out of you. I would cuddle with you and hold onto you as if I didn’t believe you were real. I would kiss you on the forehead and whisper sweet nothings in your ear.

But you will never read this. And this will never happen. And even if you do…you won’t even know it’s from me, addressed to you specifically.

I believe that after we die, we will meet and we will have a glorious courtship then. But for now, we must live out the rest of our lives without one another.

It’s time to close this chapter, my dearest. Goodbye, love. Goodbye.