There is a 98% chance that I will be single this summer. And it absolutely kills me. The love of my (current) life is going to walk away from a two-year roller coaster of a relationship. I guess you can say this is our second major fight, and you have decided that you need some space from our current situation. And it absolutely kills me. You have become a fixture in my college career and to know that you will be non-existent tears me up inside. You are more than just a boyfriend. You are my best friend. You are my cuddle buddy. You are my everything at this current time of my life. When, I guess if, we talk about this and you use my own words against me, I will be a mess. It will be the worst day of my life. You are officially gone. Now I would never say our relationship is perfect; in fact there is no ounce of perfection involved. But it works. You believe that I don’t give a damn about your efforts. I don’t give a damn that you are doing the best that you can to make me happy. And I would assume that all those niggas would have me pegged as an ungrateful, demanding bitch. But I’m learning. And sometimes I fall. A lot of times I fall. But I refuse to take the burdens of this relationship any longer. I refuse to be the only blame that our relationship has failed. It is not my absolute fault. I will admit that I am insecure. I will admit that my overbearing trust issues have made it very difficult for me to let go. I will admit that I do not know how to handle all of my emotions and it results in a blow-up. But I refuse for all my “problems” to be the reason things do not end well. I try and see things your way. You don’t how to express. You don’t know how to show. You do what you can. You are going through struggles. And for the last 11 months, those problems have become mine. And you may say nobody asked me to. But nobody asked me to love you, yet I do so faithfully. There are struggles of being a black man in society, and I am surrounded by enough of them to know. But what are my struggles? I refuse to let you believe that you are the only man in the world going through some shit. I refuse to let that be the reason why my issues are irrelevant. I need to realize that what I ask for is not outlandish. I need to realize that what I give should be matched by what I receive. Not because I feel as if I am an “typical entitled female,” but because I have earned it. Baby, I need you. In the worst way. I need you more than words can allow to me express. I need you. I will be a mess without you. But if we can’t make this 50/50, then what is it? We both said things. We pushed each other. But you can’t just walk away. Baby, if you can give me that act of reassurance, I promise this will go away. I can only be so confident. I can only hold on to so much. Meet me halfway. Know that I have changed for you. Baby, I am running out of things to say. And if you decide to walk away from everything, know what you are taking with you. It’s not just a title, dick, and some gifts. It’s my heart. It’s my world. It’s a support system that may not be amazing, but it is there. It is my life. Jheryl C. Wilson, I love you. Everything about you. WE make mistakes. But WE can fix them. WE always have. Don’t do this. Please. Don’t do this.
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