Nearly everything you ever said about me, dating back to nearly fifteen months, I see the truth in now. All the names, all the accusations and the verbal slaps to the face have credence as I look back on it all. I remember everything from that afternoon 452 days ago, and as I look at myself now, i know it’s all true. Even in our last conversation over three months ago you saw the worst in me, the worst that has overtaken the person you used to know. And I know that you are better off without me and I am glad you saw that.
I’d like to think that if I had you again that it would help with bringing back the old me so I can grow into an awesome new me. But in reality, I honestly don’t know if that would be the case. I know it’s possible, but I’m not sure how likely. Of course, it’s all trivial anyhow because I know where you stand. Your last email is evidence of that, not to mention the subsequent silence that has followed.
You know my circumstances have been difficult, and you know how much of an understatement that is. And things just keep getting worse over here and nothing seems to be getting fixed, including myself, though I suppose I am to blame for that part. But it’s hard finding motivation day after day, y’know? Especially when it seems that no one else around here really cares about me. Otherwise I might have pulled out of this slump by now with the weight of support. Not that I’m blaming others for my troubles, but it is much easier to achieve your goals when you have people with whom a mutual love and care exist behind you to help you out, which I feel I am lacking. Yeah, I have a couple of friends, but I’ve never gone into depth about how broken I really am to anyone because I hate being a burden, and no one else has seen the monster inside of me. And you know it’s not because I have awesome acting skills, cause you know how bad I am at acting.
Why am I even writing to you, a letter I’ll never send? I know I said I wouldn’t write to you any more, but for the first time in a while your name sprang to the front of my mind and I guess I just want someone to talk to. Even if you never do see this letter, or if you do, don’t realize that it is to you. Or care, for that matter. But talking to you always calmed me in the past, back when we were together, and even now I feel it helping somewhat.
I know your solution for me is to go out, join some club or organization and be social; make friends. You know that making friends has never been easy for me and you think I hide behind the “excuse” of my introversion. I think partly another reason it doesn’t work for me is because of the standards I hold when it comes to friendships. I haven’t met anyone out there with whom I truly connect as I do with the one real friend I do have. And I don’t put much value on shallow relationships that fail to penetrate the skin. I’ve never been one for many acquaintances. And most people I do meet are indeed shallow. And you know how deep I like to be at times.
It also doesn’t help that I’m not in school any more. In a sense I dropped out because it just wasn’t working out for me. I decided to jump start my career instead and maybe take some classes on the side. Unfortunately, I’m in the waiting process and have to deal with the wonderful world of retail in the meantime until I get the phone call I’ve been waiting so long to receive.
But the waiting process is killing me. And I know I should be preparing and getting ready, but I still can’t find the motivation required to do so. I just can’t seem to pull myself together and I know my general loneliness is at the heart of it. I think to myself, “If I just had *somebody* there for me who could help me through, I’d be able to get to where I need to be.” Yet for some reason it seems I must continue alone without any real support or aid. Is this really something that *has* to be done by myself? I honestly don’t fully understand.
Still, every once in a while I’ll think about you and pointlessly hope for a future with you I know won’t unfold. I’ve had to fight the urge on several occasions to contact you, but I remember your final email to me and refuse to give in because I’m sure it’ll only wound you further. Sometimes I hope to find a letter from you to me on here, but I doubt you even know about this site, let alone willing to write a letter here to me in any way I would ever truly hope for. I know you are long gone and have no desire to be fought for, at least by me, so I’m stuck with sitting in my dark bedroom writing meaningless letters. Who knows? Maybe this will be published tonight and you will see it. Maybe it will stir something within you that causes you to call me or something and perhaps it will aid in an unexpected reunion and bring me back to my feet.
Or maybe I’m just being foolish again. Yes, I think that is the most likely case. Either way, I meant everything I said during the course of those six months. Erm.. excuse me: five months and 29 days. Every single word. Even all the words I’ve spoken about you in the time since. I still have yet to say an unkind word about you. Well.. I have brought up the term “crazy” once or twice, but you did have your moments. Still, I suppose my intentions were not the greatest, so I ask your forgiveness for that. Your attributes still far outweighed your flaws in my opinion, for what it’s worth anyways.
Oh well, I suppose I ought to wrap up and head to bed. I have a long, uneventful day ahead of me tomorrow, void of the presence of human beings apart from my father who happens to be sick right now. Maybe I’ll be able to get into the right frame of mind to finally get myself back on track. I just dearly wish I had somebody who could help me out, because this loneliness and lack of support really brings me down at times.