Hello. Its been a long time. Fifteen years? Is it that long?
I know you will never read this but it makes me feel better to know it is out there. What kind of a world is it if someone like you is reading this far into anonymous letters on an obscure website? I have no delusions. I just need to get this out of me.
Writing this as though you might read it someday will probably help me be as honest as I can be. I don’t think about this often. I don’t want anything from you. I don’t need validation that I was special because frankly, I’m not. I know that.
I owe you something. I pay my debts, even long forgotten ones.
I want you to know that I don’t obsess over the past but also that of all the letters I could write to all the people I’ve known, you are the one that I chose to write this to. I painted something for you years ago but I expect it is too cryptic to really be out of my head that way.
And hell, if I am going to be brave, I might as well tell a room full of strangers, right?
Here is the meat of the thing:
You didn’t want to be friends when we broke ‘things’ off, and I get that. I want to tell you that I am sorry that I hurt you. I really do think that we were something special and probably would have stayed together if I didn’t find you when my heart was so broken and confused.
We were on fire from the first minute to the last. You got through my skin and inside of me. Everything with us was hot electric cotton candy. We could talk for hours and fuck for days and I was never less than perfectly and absolutely stimulated.
You were not the first nor the last time I had a great connection but I think you know what I mean when I say we were very well matched. I simply couldn’t let you know that I knew it. I wouldn’t admit it fully and I am ashamed of that.
Your taste everything from film to music was so in tune with my own it was unfathomable. Most importantly you were not bored or confused by my art, you encouraged me to keep going. There wasn’t an ounce of pretentious bullshit in you. You never faked it and wore your insecurity on your sleeve. Everything I ever wanted and a little extra sauce. Real.
I know you think of yourself as ‘the funny one’, and you made me laugh all the time; so much I felt like I was betraying my broken heart by smiling so much, but you were/are also fucking beautiful. So fucking beautiful. I hope you know that.
Even when you were trying to be funny I was awed. You had THE sexiest overbite since Freddy Mercury. I had to look away sometimes. You had no idea what a fox you were. I’m not playing. You are painfully adorable.
But we are not just talking about the outside, although I could go on like Miles Davis’ Bitches Brew about that. Inside, you had something wonderful.
You showed up bravely to every moment with me being both strong and vulnerable at once. I know that I gave you a hard time about the latter but only because I did not want you to give me that kind of trust when I wasn’t capable of holding onto you. It hurt me when I tried.
I admired your ability be yourself in that way I never could. I admired your fearlessness. I admired how you walked away from my flimsy offer of friendship. Seriously. Fuck me. Who do I think I am?
I know you are far from perfect. Please don’t interpret this as baiting flattery. You drank too much back then and your friends didn’t seem to suit you. You were obviously worried about your appearance more than you needed to be. You couldn’t take a compliment without bashing yourself afterward. (which I found oddly hot, wtf is wrong with me?!) Showering at your apartment was a lesson in hygiene in itself. Eww.
But goddamn… you took me off my feet. You. Not someone else. YOU.
We would be wrapped up in a ball of sweat and sex and I was somewhere else. We both were. I’d ask ‘what is that?’
I wanted so badly to keep diving in for more. I wanted to be someone who could. I wanted to be WITH someone who could.
The night we were caught in the rain and stripped down in the car for the drive back to your place, the night you jumped into the ocean to show me how much you wanted to be who you already were, the ‘right’ one for my crazy ass…those kisses… the kisses I didn’t need to choreograph because they were so perfect… Magic. And couldn’t do it again, not yet. It tore me apart inside.
‘J’ hurt me, or I hurt me. I don’t know. At the time, I know that I was sure that I’d lost ‘The One’ and it hurt like hell. That was the first time I ever tried to love anyone, and I was what, 26?
I move slowly.
The day I fell asleep in your arms and dreamed of him I ran out. I felt so terrible. I couldn’t bear looking at you and knowing ‘J’ was still in my heart. It was a betrayal of myself and you. It was not the kind of trueness of self I should give to you. I was disgusted with myself. Being over ‘J’ didn’t mean that I was healed. Maybe that was immature? It was just a dream! It was so long ago. Im sure you remember none of this.
Logically, I always knew that the idea of ‘The One’ was silly but its the silly part of me that believes in that kind of magic. It kept me alive inside for a long time to believe in something and before it happened, it was all I had to hold on to. When it didn’t work out I was crushed. I never got over it, not like normal people do.
Even after that outrageous stunt ‘J’ pulled I wasn’t suddenly ‘okay’. It wasn’t that I wanted any part of being attached to some ridiculous prior relationship. I wanted no part of that nonsense. What held me back was something innocent injured inside myself that curled up to cry and needed more than a couple drinks to soothe. Something that hurt that I can’t talk about here. I think you know, but you don’t know everything.
It took almost 7 years of pushing myself to the absolute limit for me to try to open up that way again. I didn’t make it then either. I don’t trust people, with good reason apparently. C’est la vive.
I tried to explain at the time that I understood myself enough to know that I wouldn’t be alright anytime soon. That was as honest as I could be. Just know, I wish I had met you first.
Is it sick to say that you were a much more worthy of my heartbreak? At least to me you were. Smart, sexy, determined, grounded, funny and kind. I am so sorry that I am not, was not, normal and couldn’t bounce right back from the pain I was in. I’m not sorry because you ‘missed out’ on me but because we both lost something good because of my issues and what was done to me – and at best that is tragic.
Being with you immediately after was impossible. You looked at me with so much adoration and touched me with such powerful intent that I often couldn’t resist despite myself.
I am not one to feel comfortable repeatedly flying into the porch light. You scared the hell out of me to be honest. What IS THAT?
Even when you know that something is all in your mind doesn’t take away the fear. I tried to do the right thing and lost you anyway.
The short time we were ‘together’ wasn’t enough. I tried so hard to find you when I was healed enough but after a few years, eventually when I did, you were married (or at least that is what ‘they’ told me) so I stayed silent. I truly hope it is everything you wanted.
I hear you laughing at my verbose dramatics. Cut it out. I’m serious. It was hard. I cared more than you know.
All that shit I said back then was rhetoric. The light show of baffling bullshit placed neatly in view for you to be distracted from what I couldn’t show you. Things I showed no one.
Please don’t read this like some teenager had some rejection because of acne. I was hurt badly in ways I didn’t even fully remember. Putting someone else through that is just wrong.
I have never been a weak person but there are some things that you can’t hammer into place just for wanting them so. Some things are just slow and really fucking hard for me. I had to do it in my own, no matter what that took. I kept going and I manage an approximation of a successful normal life, which for me is more than I ever hoped for. The You that I knew, albeit briefly, hopefully would be proud of me.
All these years later, sometimes I’ll see something that reminds me if you and I light up. I wish you could see it…’you’ from back then, at least. He needed to know that he was right. You were right about us and I took all control over it away from you. Literally nothing you could have said would have changed my mind.
I can’t imagine how that must have felt, being helpless and knowing you found something so rare. Just.. being forced to let it walk away.
I was telling the truth, I wanted to try with you. I just needed some time. More time. Apparently I also needed therapy, medication and years of hard work. It would have been wrong to keep you from meeting someone who could give it all ‘now’. It would have been more wrong to expect you to stay through all that horrible stuff in my head or to bear my past as I did.
Fuck. You don’t know how much I want to send this to your Facebook, but I can’t eek out even a meagre ‘hi’ for fear that you will tell me to fuck off or it will upset your relationship. I wont. I really am that afraid of how much it would hurt to actually know that you want to never hear from me again. That is probably unreasonably fragile for a grown ass woman, but… Yeah. We knew that.
I’ve never been healthy emotionally. I don’t trust anyone and I had a long way to go back then. I did love you. I choked on my tongue not to tell you. I froze when you said it to me. I tried to come back to you and couldn’t find you. You had long since closed the door. You did it for your own protection and I understand. I want you to know that I will never forget you…us… or that moment in time with you. I can still taste that summer rain we shared.
I am quite sure that I am a distant if not forgotten memory. Thats what I ‘deserve’, really from you. How ironic.
So many people hurt me C, I was so scared. When we were alone and in the clouds I was both amazed and terrified. I never even told you half of the horrible things I went through in my life. There wasn’t enough time and I was not ready. I still live in a sea of fear that I battle every moment. Its awful to admit but I didn’t deserve your love in my mind. I don’t even deserve your ear now. I deserved another crazy one. Nobody as good as you could stay with a damaged thing like me. I am sorry that I couldn’t fix me for you. I’ve done the best I can for myself over the years, however.
You are out there, somewhere in the world. We are strangers. I am a ghost.
I wonder what and who you have grown into. I hope you are in blissful love in your relationship. I hope that you have someone that is so wonderful that you never thought of me again.
I am far far away. I am not going to die someday never having told you what I should have told you everyday, no, every minute, and in all those thick-aired moments looking into your pretty eyes.
I love you.
I loved you so much it hurt, so I ran away.
Please make a joke now. Its far too serious in here right now.
Remember kids, dancing is the work of the Devil