There was a letter written to someone, somewhere, once. It may have read, in part:
“Dear [REDACTED 10],
I know. I know. I know. Times infinity. I fucked up. I made the cliché the reality. I wait breathlessly for nothing to happen. I’ve been waiting for someone to come change me, but what if the real miracle, or magic, or possibly even love, was finding someone that didn’t want me to change? What if I’m too fucking stupid to see that?
I’d destroy this wall with my fists if it did anything but hurt me. Yet, I’d still wake up alone.
How many great loves are we allotted again? I think I may have used my last one up on you without even realizing it. Because I did love you – no, I do love you – even if I told you so many times that I didn’t. I just couldn’t see that I did with the noise in my head. It took you finding someone else to love you that made me realize it, and I’m sorry.
Do you think that before we’re made to atone for our sins we’re given a chance to explain them? Why we stole, why we hurt, why we fucked – there is a reason behind it all, isn’t there? God… I was so surprised to find out just how deeply I feel for you. As much as moments like that are terribly traumatizing, they’re also strangely exhilarating. They teach you things about yourself.
I think that if we were able to explain our sins they wouldn’t seem so bad. Then maybe we’d each have a chance at the pureness we started with. Before the mistakes piled up, I mean. Because they do pile up. Often the same ones, over and over and over and over… Until you get sick of them. I made a lot of the same mistakes over and over again with you, and you always let me. Why did you let me?
I know you’re happy now, and I can’t interfere with that even though you’d be even happier with me. I just know that in the morning, when I’ve slept this off, I’ll hate these words. I’ll know that this is for the best and that my loss is his gain. At least now I won’t be able to hurt you anymore.
It seemed like our whole relationship was built from pain. You hurt him, I hurt you, then myself. I deserved it. Good luck baby doll, even though I should keep it for myself. God knows I need it.”
I cannot explain how I felt reading this. For a minute I was totally speechless and then it got to a point where I read it a few more times. For a while, I didn’t feel like there was an author writing this story, but I felt as though someone I know was writing this to me. This piece relates in so many ways. Not only is it easy to relate to, it’s also a wonderful thing to see feelings like these expressed, especially by a man. We all know that some men have difficulty expressing feelings like this, especially to a woman. Reading this piece was a completely warm and calming experience for me. Your word play was on point, and most important you had excellent expression. The reader knows how you really feel. It’s key for a writer to make sure the reader knows how they feel and not just that they put something down on a piece of paper. Well done indeed, very well done.
Very well done! your letters are almost to well written. All my old letters in the past were filled w/ run on sentences, images, curses, etc…
I’m loving these series of letters, you should consider compiling them into a book for publishing. One of my favorite lines from this work is “It took you finding someone else to love you that made me realize it”, because it plays on so many old sayings, like “You don’t know what you got until it’s gone.” and “You don’t miss water until your well runs dry.” So many of us that have relationships experience that sudden value of love once we know it’s become out of our reach.
The part about allowing someone to make the same mistakes again struck me too, seeing as I’ve had to ask myself the same questions, and concluded that people always want to think the short term efforts and words of promised change will manifest naturally and hurriedly, and with that, we hope the person will ascend to a higher level of caring on their on accord. When the change doesn’t happen, ‘sorry’ isn’t good enough to keep the person in the relationship.