Dear Nobody

today i stared at what was once my life…how pathetic i was to blast myself and wished that someone cared. i read letters i wrote to myself boys that never cared but i gave them parts of my soul…friends that never mattered whether i was there or gone…a best friend i never thought i would lose based on “a friend of a friend” problem. i think to how many times i’ve wrote to you…when my life was so hard who did i have left to turn to…but you… nobody. all those years i wasted it kills me to see it…to read it… to relive it…every day perfectly preserved as if anyone would care to read it…i never did it to have people feel sorry for me but no other voice could i find. i never stood a chance in life my teachers are students themselves as we go along i become the responsible adult while the world around me crumbles…i get sick to my stomach when i see the people i have to surround myself with…my husband that ignores me except for sex…my best friend that lies to cover her own ass but steps on everyone to make her lies reality… the person that i despise for stealing my life i have to smile and play pleasant like i give a shit…and the person that has uninvited claim to what last bit of sanity i have shakes my heart that they carry on a chain in face just to leave again…false hope is what fuels my day anger is what wakes me up in the morning sadness is what holds me when i sleep…a wasted life is all i have to pass on for myself…just one question for you tonight…why is it so hard to let go…or better yet why did i reduce my life to pages that just show what little i have everyday, why can’t i just let them go…
thinking of you always…nobody,


I think you were alluding to the fact that I could have taken the initiative back then, which is entirely true. I liked you so much. I liked it when you looked at me with that smug, confident look. You could make me feel sexy just by looking at me. I liked it when you flirted with me for all you were worth. You could make me laugh like  no other boy could.

Except I was totally petrified.

But I never quit thinking about you. I’ve thought about you a lot in the last couple of years especially, and fantasized about how we would be together.

I look at your pictures and wonder how it feels to kiss you, to hold you and be held by you. I wonder how it feels to spoon with you, to look into your eyes without all those pretensions and so-called obstacles. I wonder how it would feel if you murmured in my ear, your hot breath on my neck. I wonder if you want these things too…

I’m so sorry.

I heard that your husband is dying.

I’m not sure what to say to you.  This makes me so uncomfortable because I desperately don’t want to say or do the wrong thing…but there is no manual for this.  Do I write?  Do I call?  Do I tell you how sorry I am?  All of this seems so trivial compared to the big picture of the man that you love waiting in a hospital room  and dying.

I’m so sorry.  I wish I could help.