I wish he could see that I’m trying. That I have this new life over here and that I’m trying.

I wish he could see that I didn’t ask for any of this. This wasn’t my undoing. And that all I’ve done was what I could do, which was my best.

I wish he could see that I’m just a girl with feelings, with love, with pain. I wish he could see that I’m feeling all of it.

I wish he could see that I’ve been crying. I wish he could see how challenging it is for me to breathe.

I wish he could see how hard it’s become to be strong for myself and for my family. I wish he could see the honesty in my eyes when I say, “I can’t. Not anymore. I can’t.”

I wish he could see that I want all of this behind me, too. I wish he could see that we once had a friendship, and then a love, and that it doesn’t need to be like this.

I wish he could see that taking this further hurts me. Prolonging this makes me anxious. That the additional burdens make it hard to wake up each day. And that all I asked for was help and that now all I want is out.

I wish he could see that it’s my story, not his. It’s about me, not him. And that I have every right to tell it.

I wish he could see that things don’t need to come to this. I wish we could agree to disagree. Sign away what was and get on with our lives. Separately. Apart. Not together. Anymore.

I wish he could see that that’s all it needs to be and that’s all I really want.

I wish he could see that I’m stronger now. I’ve come a long way. And I can’t, I won’t, be controlled anymore.

Anyway, I wish he could see that.