A good-bye letter

"Fumar puede matar."

Dear C. L.,

Over the years we’ve had our ups and downs. I first met you when I was seventeen, but we flirted from afar and didn’t really get to know one another until I was nineteen. Once properly introduced, however, we quickly got serious and remained inseparable for five years. Then I called it off for the first time. We didn’t see each other for a couple years after that. We slowly got to know one another again, dated off and on for a few years before getting serious again three years ago. I thought I might be strong enough to do things differently this time. But it’s become clear to me recently that I was right the first time, and we never should have gotten back together. You haven’t changed. This isn’t a healthy relationship for me; it never has been.

Part of me doesn’t want to say good-bye. If not for you, there are people whom I never would have even met, much less would have become good friends with. My relationship with you has led to experiences I never would have had. You are the key to a whole world that would otherwise be shut to me. Saying goodbye to you means saying goodbye to that world and some of the friends I've made in it.

I don’t know what I’m going to do without you. You’ve always been there for me, comforting me when I was anxious, celebrating my victories with me. You were there for me between lovers and in foreign countries when I had no other friends. You offered comfort before first dates and first classes when I was feeling nervous. Between stressful meetings. You supported me in times of need, like when I suddenly had two puppies in my house pissing and shitting everywhere and systematically chewing through my living room furniture. Or when my job/life was falling apart.

You helped me stave off hunger and keep off weight. You kept me awake and my mind alert on long car rides. You encouraged me to spend more time outside in all types of weather, and therefore helped me stay connected to nature and the fresh air.

I can’t imagine my life without you.

But I know I’ve lived without you before. I know it must be possible. And it’s necessary. This isn’t a healthy relationship for me. Hasn’t been for the last three years. It’s not just the stained fingers, the bad breath, the tar in my lungs. It’s not the dry skin or the fact that you prevent my circulatory system from fighting the bad, plaque-causing bacteria in my mouth that could eventually lead to periodontal disease. (I had no idea until recently you were even doing that.)

It’s the fact that I’m addicted to you. Even when hanging out with you makes me feel awful — tired, groggy, nauseous, jittery — I can’t get enough of you. I can’t stand the thought of leaving you behind when I go hiking in the woods or walking on the beach, and yet you don’t belong in those places. I want to be able to go places without you. But you insist I take you with me everywhere I go. 

I need my space. I need my autonomy and choice, and I don’t have that with you.
 
You encourage dependence and I need to learn to live on my own. I need to learn to depend on myself and find other ways to deal with boredom, stress, loneliness, uncertainty, and, yes, even joy. I’ve used you as an emotional Novocaine, and that seems unhealthy on a whole different level. I’ve used you as an excuse to not fully engage in life.

You’re a drain on my energy, my health, and my finances. And now that I’m precariously self-employed, I can’t afford you anymore. I need the money for food, mortgage, utility bills. My life circumstances have changed. It’s true that I probably wouldn’t be leaving you if my circumstances hadn’t changed, but now I’m glad for the motivation because the relationship is unhealthy on several levels. 

I need to be strong enough to carry on without you.

I’ve stayed too long already. I’m not going to ask you to change. I know that’s impossible, and it wouldn’t be fair. I might come back for a visit from time to time — I can’t say for certain — but certainly never to live with you again. If someday we can have a relationship that isn’t bad for my physical health and isn’t addictive, I’ll give it another shot, but I just don’t see that happening.

Goodbye, cigarettes. I’ll miss you, but I’m leaving you to take better care of my whole self. You helped me survive, and now it’s time for me to thrive.

So long,
Sione