I was with him for a year and a half. Rumor has it that he’s moving to Brooklyn today to start a new life.

I never gave him back his suitcases until yesterday.

The good news is he won’t be trying to hurt me any more, and I won’t have to watch my back to make sure I’m not accidentally attending the same social event he might be attending. I won’t have to limit my access to my friends. I won’t be impeded from making new ones within his circle.

The bittersweet news is that he asked my best friend to apologize to me, for him for the way he’s behaved since we parted in anticipation of his leaving.

He’s granted me forgiveness before, only to turn around and bite me. And somehow I can’t take it seriously that he’s seeking reconciliation again. Not when he still has to scribble madly on a napkin when we accidentally go out to dinner at the same time together, as an act to try to suppress his rage. Not when he screams at me to go home, or beats up trees when he leaves as a way of getting out that anger. Not after the time he told me to die. Not after the way I felt for all of the ways he tried to make me hurt for leaving him.

I told a friend of mine of all the ways I felt betrayed. He stole my memories. He made all the joy we used to have into bitter reflections of the pain that came to follow. I used to love him so much. He said he loves me still. But he still did this.

You don’t hurt the ones you love. Not like that. Not with the vindictiveness that was in his every breath.

“He’ll remember he loves you soon. It’s just the anger talking,” she said.

A few months ago I might have believed that.

I hate to see him hurting, but it feels right for all the ways he hurt others this semester, and alienated himself with his thoughts of revenge and bitterness. He made our friends choose. He hated them for not hating me. I hate to see him alone, because that was what he always feared the most. But in his own way, he asked for this?

I give up.

Goodbye, dear. Goodbye and good luck. May you reap but you sow, but please, please ... sow better this time. You don’t deserve this.