Screw Michael Collins.
 
I am so tired of being betrayed. Just once in my life, I would like a happy, fucking ending. The last thing I needed was another drill instructor. I needed a best friend. A lover. A partner. I craved someone to tell me my worth without breaking me in the process. I wanted to know that no matter what happened in this tin can, no matter where the SMC took us, that someone loved me. I thought that’s what I had with Michael.
 
I know, my previous letters never mentioned how strong my feelings were for him, but I didn’t realize how much I depended or loved him, until this.
 
God! Why did he have to screw this up? I actually thought he meant it when he said he loved me in return. What utter bullshit!
 
I am heartbroken, Gillian. I poured everything that I am into him. This has twisted me in ways I didn’t think possible. Anger and sadness constantly push and pull at each other, and as I desperately try to keep myself together, I quickly fall apart. There are moments where I want to scream and hit something, and others where I just put my head against the cold tiles of a shower and cry.

I can honestly say that I am sorry for ever putting you through something like this. I wouldn’t wish these feelings on my worst enemy.
 
What bothers me most is that he was the one person who I thought I could really trust. Who I thought would be there to pick me up when I fell. Despite what he thought was best, or what would make him look better, he shit on everything that we had built in one selfish moment.
 
I’ll spare you the details, Gillian. Just know that no amount of alcohol can dull this ache. With each sip, I find myself getting more frustrated and weepy, so I thought I’d write home and let you all know how miserable I am.
 
Whatever. At this point, I have nothing left to lose. I am right back where I started; bitching about being alone and sad with my self-made situation. I just want to forget about Michael Collins, but it seems like with each word I write, it just hurts even more.
 
Michael will get what he wants in the end, I guess; a nicely decorated officer who is in complete control of herself and her command. You know what though; I am going to do it on my terms, and not his. I will make damn sure that he knows that his decision cost him something that was far more valuable than a few more stripes on a uniform.
 
I need to hit the sack, class in four hours.
 
Mr. J. Daniels sends his regards.
 
Shannon

Tags: O'Leary Letters