do speak louder than words.
Do you remember several years ago the role you played in pulling me safely through my suicide attempt? Not exactly something you forget, especially the ordeal I put you through, and I can only imagine the relief you felt when you learned I made it safely into the squad car and was escorted to a mental health clinic. I failed to kill myself, but you succeeded in keeping me alive.
What if I were to tell you that I actually succeeded, and you, in turn, fell short?
I conceded my life was forfeit a long time ago. Conglomeration of events and poor mental health space was the perfect recipe to take action on bringing this pointless existence to an end. Yet, I’ve wallowed that failure for years now, wondering why I must continue to suffer just so those around me don’t have to. Even lately, over the past year and a half, I’ve considered a follow up attempt. One you would not save me from thanks to the destruction I’ve wrought.
As I look back on past and current events, however, I’ve come to accept that maybe my suicide was successful after all, and that I did indeed die in that mountain cabin. I’ve been caught in a hybrid of purgatory and hell, an invisible slave to those around me. Most of all my own family. I’ve gotten married since. Had kids. Been employed and bounced around. But I’ve been nothing but an empty shell, welded shut with a painted smile, living to please my spouse and rear my kids despite my crippling mental disabilities.
Truthfully, none of that matters as judgment has come early for me, and I’m sure you’ll be pleased to hear that. I am unseen and unheard. The depth of the well within me, which once I prided myself in having, has been sucked dry. I no longer read. I no longer write. I no longer am able to engage in meaningful and stimulating discussion and debate. My soul has withered away into nothing as I’ve pushed away the only people capable of nurturing mental and personal growth. My opinion has become irrelevant unless, of course, it is agreeable to my spouse. My emotions, although occasionally acknowledged, are brushed over and forgotten about. If they have a bad day, I must put aside how I am feeling to help turn it around. If I have a bad day, it causes them to have a bad day, and so I must put mine aside to help turn theirs around. I no longer have anyone who genuinely cares about how I am doing and who is capable and willing to help pull me through my own booby-trapped mind.
I basically just live to make them happy. I’ve tried igniting that spark of passion within me, but all attempts have been futile. It’s just cold and dark at my center, like the rest of the universe. My own faith had dwindled from an inferno to a fragile flicker, which finally went out a few months ago. Yet I find myself in church week after week, façade firmly in place, as I’m not allowed to be anything else. I’m pretty sure my spouse already knows or at least suspects, as I only put forth a minimal effort, but as long as their bubble remains intact and they can live in their own fantasy world, who cares, right? I am no longer my own.
Besides, I’m dead already, living out my judgment on this physical earth before being sent to the hellfire beneath it. It is no less than I deserve for the POS I’ve become. And truly, the knowledge of my earthly purgatory is the only thing keeping me from trying to make a second attempt on my life, because I know I’m already dead. There’s naught else for me to do except continue pretending to be who I am not and to fit into the mold I’m told to. Apathy has taken over and there’s no way out, now.
I’m sorry, A, that you were not able to save me. And I’m sorry that I punished you for it. But really, I suppose, I was just saving you from myself by letting you catch a glimpse of the demon inside me. I didn’t mean the words I spoke that night when I was drunk and you were right to be upset, but I cannot control the beast that has taken up residence inside my core. I’ve been consumed, and the me you knew no longer exists.
I do hope all is well with you and your family. Stay strong and live well.
I am 17 years old and i feel like i haven’t experienced life at its fullest yet.
I don’t know the feeling of another human being , loving me that much that i actually return it.
I don’t have the career i’m seeking right now and i’m stressed that i won’t make it sooner than i planned to.
I know i am the problem , but i wish someone knew that and still decided that i was worth staying around for and help me fix myself.
I just want to be appreciated and validated.
This life was just a failed experiment i guess.
Dear First Love,
I love you. I have loved you. I always will love you.
I remember when we met; when we really met. After school in third grade, on a warm and sunny day. The sky was clear. I was standing outside, near the Garfield Elementary sign. The one that was crudely painted a long time before we got there. I was just learning how to use crutches; my ankle sweating through a poorly wrapped ace bandage. I was watching my younger brother and his new friend, playing and laughing; having a great time in their own little world.
“Our brothers are weird, huh?” You said behind me. I turned to see you, with your wire glasses on a round and chubby face atop a body you wouldn’t grow into for several years. We’ve been best friends since then. From when we called ourselves “minion buddies” to now “uniform friends”
On a Friday in sixth grade, Emily broke up with you over text while you and I were walking together to the playground after school. She told you I had a crush on you. Immediately, you turned to me and asked me to be your girlfriend.
We didn’t know how relationships worked back then; we were young. But eight whole years later and I still feel the same.
We’re basically the same person. No one can make me laugh as hard as you do. You understand and support my love for all things nerdy, even taking part when I rant about Star Wars. When I’m with you everything feels right; as if that’s how it’s supposed to be all the time. No matter how long we’ve been apart, it feels like no time has passed when I jump in the front seat of that little green truck you love so much.
There are so many things I love about you. I love the way you would hold me. I love the way you laugh. I fucking miss your laugh. I love the way you still talk to me every day even though you’re the government’s property in Japan, a whole 14 hours ahead of me. I love the way you look at me, and how comfortable you make me feel.
I don’t know if I just crave the innocence of the relationship we had at first, or the adrenaline of sneaking off to the lake with you when we were older and weren’t even dating anymore. I don’t know if I miss the connection we felt in the front seats of my car, or the way your hands fit perfectly with mine. But I do know one thing: You are my one and only love. I’ve never felt love like I have for you with anyone else.
You were there through the worst times in my life. You saw me cutting myself; you noticed when I starved myself. You’ve talked me off ledges and empathized with me.
You were there through the best times in my life. You were my biggest fan when I started MMA. You were so proud of me when I got accepted to my dream program at my dream college. Some of my best memories are with you. Stargazing behind the trailer mansion, “off-roading” at the city lake in your manual jeep. Blowing shit up in your backyard.
My family still loves you. Our parents are still convinced we’re meant to be. My brothers even thought we’d be married by now. You and I think it’s funny they won’t let us go but secretly it breaks my heart.
I still have the love letters you wrote to me as well as the turtle jewelry you bought me in middle school. Creepy, I know, but we’ve established I’m a very nostalgic person. Hey, I made the box in like eighth grade; I’m going to keep it.
We may be on opposite sides of the planet (6,201 miles to be exact) with completely different life plans, but I do know that one day we’ll meet again. And like you said, we’ll probably end up being those rom-coms where high school sweethearts bump into each other at a coffee shop in their home town and the spark is still there. If we don’t, that’s okay. I’ve moved on; accepted the fact that we most likely won’t end up together. I’ll be happy for you either way. You’re my best friend. You’re the love of my life.
Sometimes I wonder if I never should have broken up with you freshman year. I don’t regret it; I wouldn’t be the person I am today without the experiences I had without you. I wouldn’t have been able to explore and discover who I am.
I thank you for continuously showing me what unconditional love is and what it feels like. I hope I find someone that makes me feel the way you do, and I hope you find the same.
Minion/Ace Ventura Buddy
P.S. I know this letter sounds very much like a serial killer, but I promise it’s not like that. I’m not some crazy girl who’s still obsessed with you; I’m not going to lose my marbles and skin a cat if you end up marrying that girl, Savannah. I’ll be happy for you. Happy you found someone who will give you the same butterflies and heartache I have for you. Yea, I’ll be crying really hard at your wedding but I’ll tell you they’re happy tears so I won’t ruin your big day.
you seem to kill me inside when you are around.
Hey sweetheart…Long time, No talk.
You have no idea how much I love you…
My heart has been aching more than usual lately…
I shed a few tears today while thinking about you.. not sure why. I hope you’re doing well and I want the best for you, even if we don’t end up together.
Words can’t describe how much I love you, M.T. I wish you knew…
I remember him
I remember him from my dreams
Always standing far from me
But with me
A presence so quiet and yet so constant
Always wearing a white shirt
Never saying anything
And I rememberhim abandoning me
Angry at me because I chose a certain path
A year later he came back again
This time he was closer to me
Talked to me
Asked me if he could buy something for me
We sat together by the pier
I remember not where it was
But I remember him from my dreams
His presence sometimes haunts me in real life
I see glimpses of him sometimes
Always at the back of my mind
Always in my subconscious
And I ask myself if I am going insane
Or is it just wishful thinking on my part
Wishful because I long for him
Wishful because I long for love
Are you my guardian angel?
Are you my spirit guide?
Are you my divine right life partner?
Who are you the man in my dreams?
My dear Jacob,
I’ve reached a point where I realize that I probably will never have you. No matter how much I want you and how much my heart tells me that we are meant to spend our lives together.
But I can’t ignore the fact that you could have me at any given moment and you have chosen otherwise. I realize your mental health needs to come first and I agree. You need time. But that’s just it, you always need time and there’s never room for me.
Even just having you in my life as a casual thing I can’t do. I wish that I could but I need to know you’re all in before I can commit to anything even just casual. I need “us” back. I have decided that my own respect and my mental health are important too.
My hope is that soon one day you’ll be ready to be with me and we can just have a blast being a cute biker couple. But I am slowly realizing that I can’t rely on that anymore and I need to focus on myself and what I need. I’ve prayed every day that you’ll come back but I just don’t know if it’ll ever happen. I hate knowing that I’m losing so much time with you. I want to be with you and be spending this summer with YOU. It sucks but it is what it is.
I hope that you find yourself and you find happiness. I hope that you never forget me and that you’ll always love me like I do you.
You are the most amazing, interesting, fun, loving person I have ever met. To this day I have never met anyone as exhilarating and amazing as you. I really haven’t. You blow me away. I love you. Every part of you. Even the parts that I like least because somehow I grow to love them.
Why am I so obsessed with you? I wish I could stop. Haha.
I hope we meet again one day.
With my love always,
Hurt like a motherfucker
Emotions torn threatening to tear my chest apart
Hurt to the ends of despair
To the ends of no repair
Why can’t I be forgiven
I don’t judge
Why am I judged
Why am I not loved
Why am I not accommodated
Why am I not accepted
Hurt like a motherfucker
And I don’t know what to do about it
I want to scream and curse
I want to pull out the heaviness from my chest
And throw it out to the dogs to devour
I fucking hurt
I’m not a man of many words. There’s so much I wish I could say but never can. If you ever want to know how I feel, look into my eyes then you’ll see.