Dear "You"...From "Me"-Letters Unsent

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Of course, given the vindictive things you said about me when our (sorry, *your*) band split up, and the belittling comments you sometimes made about my songwriting contributions, and the fact that you went behind my back and formed a new band with the drummer I recruited, I'm gutted to hear that you were recently beaten up on a night bus.

I don't feel any schadenfreude.

I don't feel any sense of vindication.

I don't feel that karma has finally served your your just desserts.

Oh no, not me. I would never be that petty.

Not at all.

dear ~,

i'm sorry i wasn't perfect. we moved fast, we both had our baggage, and we both couldn't trust each other like we needed to. i'm sorry you felt i wasn't making an effort. i was, and had you made any effort to communicate that you weren't satisfied with the time i spent talking to you, i could've stayed up more for you and texted you more like you like. i don't personally put weight into text messaging like you do, and i wish you gave me the chance to explain that i prefer in person conversations strongly.. but a simple adult conversation, in person, would've made everything clear, and we would've been fine. i wish i knew what was so horrible about me that you couldn't make an effort to even try to stay friends, or try to talk to me at all. there wasn't any reason to be afraid of me, we've never fought or argued, or even slightly raised our voices at each other in person. but i guess those things are a product of the fact that you just didn't care.

you can pretend like i'm the most uncaring, cold as*hole in the world. and you can keep telling all our mutual friends that. but when you do, remember i was willing to open up, i was willing to try to communicate, and i would've fought to the death to keep you in my life, even if it was just as a friend with no chance of anything more. you put in no effort to do any of those things. instead, you ran away from everything and offered no explanation. i don't know how much more cold it gets than that.

i'm sorry i have to post this on an anonymous forum where it will never reach you.

886

You were intelligent, loquacious, and people oriented. I liked you, and resent you for sharing important milestones, and ultimately not appreciating the steady and unassuming.

F*%$ you for savoring hothouse flowers while dismissing the roots. RIP, despite the pain you sowed in your wake...

Dear Mom,

It has been six years since you passed away. I still miss you every day. It was unfair that you are gone and someone like me is still here. What is my purpose for living?

Dear Y'All,

For years, I got up again. I kept trying, kept suggesting, kept loving, kept believing, kept picking myself up.

And you kept kicking me back down. Criticizing, mocking, rejecting, insulting, undermining, kicking me back down. No matter what I tried to do, what I tried to believe in.

You finally got through to me. I get the message. I suck, I'm broken, I'm bad, I shouldn't bother trying. All my energy should be poured into smiling for you and complying for you and being what you want to see (but it still won't be good enough).

Now you want me to be the Old Me again. You want me to try, suggest, love, believe. You scream at me to pick myself up...

...and you still tell me, not that you were wrong or that you're sorry, but that it was my fault you said all those things, my fault that eventually you broke my spirit and left a shell sitting here, empty, with its entire self-worth dependent from moment to moment on your pleasure and acceptance.

f**k you. Not happening. The person that once lived here hardly stirs any more. When it does, it is very painful. Yes, I'm still in here, somewhere, less than a soul, less than a seed, battered and broken and dying an agonizingly slow death. Leave me alone. Let me die. Enjoy the shell that was constructed to please you. Because no, I'm not nursing myself back to life once again just so you can have the pleasure of killing me one more time.

All apologies,

The b***h

A resurrection....of feeling mislead, toyed with, and misunderstood. An unfortunate resurrection indeed.

It makes me remember the wish to know you... honestly., straightforwardly, as a true friend.

And disappointment, even though I tried so hard. I don't think you know how hard I tried...

No resentment really. Just sadness revisited.

Take care...

Dear 14 year old me,
I have been through a lot of rough times during my teenage years. Only if you knew that your graduate High school in a couple days. I remember I thought I wouldn't make it but here I am younger me, all ready to graduate and go to college.
-Syd

still...
what does it mean?
turn like a turning thing, the sudden closing in, but the same cracks, hé
you think you can over- compensate, though
but in the waste i find what you took, you didn't care that much for covering that up,
and the slimy story the other day too
sure two slimy beings can work up a lot of it, and doing the next day the contrairy

how in any s**t, but liars always believe strongly so strongly in their story,
never listen but being 100% sure later on what i said, when im sure its not even close

You quit talking to me, you’ve never done that before, you wouldn’t let me cuddle or touch you, you would just obsess over your conspiracy site. I know you are schizophrenic but it’s not an excuse for everything. You claim you cut me off so I would go visit my family because you were too attached to let me go otherwise. After all we’ve been through.. after all the money I spent and sacrifices I’ve made for you to keep you safe, putting myself in jeopardy over and over, sacrificing jobs and friends and family relationships. I cried right next to you. You didn’t comfort me. As soon as we decided to break it off you come around. You still didn’t let me touch you. I fly to be with my family. All you wanna do is talk and text and say you are trying to reprogram yourself so that you can be more accepting or some bull***t. Well it’s too f-ing late. I can forgive the crazy. I can understand the disability. But I can’t get over the coldness. Out of self protection I can’t go through it again. I have lost you before to drinking, to lack of money, to incarceration. But to lose you to this, is too much. I can’t be broken because I am already too broken. Like the willow tree I can be bent to the ground, cry a river, feel the tearing in my heart and still have the knowledge that it will end. You are not the only one to break my heart and I have broken many myself. It’s a cruel world. Now I will just be a little older and a little colder, I know how to be that way. It sucks and I hate it. Enjoy your freezer….

Sweet friend of mine, I think you think with a great level of wickedness and with a great desire to do harm to others.

I was blind and now I see,

You can't hurt me anymore,

That is all,