I've been worried sick about Kyle since he got attacked. He didn't want me to see his injuries, so I waited until Wednesday night to see him. He didn't seem himself. While we were in Safeway buying groceries, he ignored me the whole time and essentially went about his business as if I wasn't there. I was hurt, but I understood. If I were in his shoes, I'd probably be the same way.
When we got to his place and started cooking, I tried to kiss him, but he pulled away. I asked what was wrong and he told me that we shouldn't act intimate anymore because at some point, we're going to have to stop anyway. Better sooner than later. When I probed further, he told me that he started seeing another guy barely a week ago.
I don't want to bore you with all the melodramatic details, but I wanted to please Kyle so I was willing to go along with whatever he wanted if it meant I'll still get to cuddle with him on our sleepover dates. I spent the night for old time's sake. The next morning, as I was about to leave, I found my car missing. After I called the impound and learned that they didn't have my car, I went to the police station to report it stolen.
To be honest, I was a little apprehensive going to the police station because I have this image that the place was cold, unfeeling, and uninviting. I wasn't wrong. What made it bearable was the police officer who took my report. Although he had a professional demeanor, he seemed compassionate and that calmed me a bit.
They found my car abandoned in downtown San Francisco later that night. Apparently, whoever stole my car just wanted to take it for a joyride and a little bit of a stealing spree and wasn't interesting in selling its parts in the black market. Relieved, I went with my parents to the police station and picked up my car from the auto return.
I emailed Kyle earlier that night. I told him everything I felt and hoped for a response. I didn't get any. The next day, I asked Kyle about the email and commented about his lack of passion. He got upset, threw some self-deprecating lines and proceeded to block and delete me from the social networking sites we log on to and the messaging clients we use.
This nine-month ordeal with Kyle left me drained and gaze into the future with a sense of dread. The tiny sliver of light in this abysmal situation is that it made me realize that nothing I could have done would have changed the outcome. I didn't make Michael go away two years ago. I didn't make Kyle go away now. They chose to do so themselves.
I'm not bitter. I was originally going to make another effort to get Kyle to change his mind, but realized that it wasn't going to solve the underlying problem that caused this situation anyway. I'll be the better person and just walk away without causing more distress to both of us.
Here are the last letters I wrote to Kyle. I wrote them to help me let go. Click on the images to enlarge. Enjoy reading them.