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

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To me:
Look, idiot: your sopranino uses German, not Baroque fingerings. The reason your B is sharp is because you keep using the wrong fingering system.

Dear Whomever is listening,

Thanks for all the kinds words and all as I try not be so cruel unto myself and all.
Yes, I'll admit my writing style is not very easy to decipher yet, I'm doing my best to make myself understood.2nd, I try my best to take notice of everyone here on WP even if my attempts are not well recieved..

Sincerely,
ProfessorX

Dear Caroline, Just because I don't say anything doesn't mean I don't care and don't think about you always. I just think that for us both it's easier this way because if I say what I think and feel we both know where it's gonna lead and where that'll get us. I wish it could be but it's not meant to, not for now at least.

Dear S,
It really hurt me when you abruptly ended things with me a couple of weeks ago, but my love for you hasn't diminished at all. I can't even begin to express just how much I miss you; how much it hurts me to have lost you.
For so long, I was convinced that we would spend the rest of our lives together. It seems utterly and unspeakably wrong that we won't be doing that now. I honestly can't imagine my future without you in it. I grew so much as a person in my time with you, and I don't even know who I am anymore without you.
I still don't entirely understand the convoluted reasons you gave for ending things with me. You can't juggle the demands of a long-distance relationship and your studies at medical school; you can't handle this any more, you're not ready for this; you don't feel we're progressing anymore; (you say) our relationship isn't sustainable over the long term; it's not going to work; you can't be the one for me. It's all very confused, and I don't really understand why we can't work together to try and strengthen our relationship. I thought I was worth more than that to you. I thought we were worth more than that to you. Are you really the person I thought you were? You gave me so much, and brought me so much joy, far more than I ever imagined possible. One day, you were signing off your e-mails with "Love always, S." The next, your tone changed completely, and you tell me you've been thinking about "us" and come to the conclusion that it can't work. I don't understand why things changed between us so quickly.
I also don't see how you can tell me that you can't be the one for me. Perhaps, I'm not the one for you, but you most definitely *are* the one for me -- the *only* one for me. There is no one else for me, no one but you. I don't see that ever changing, even if I live for another sixty years and never feel your touch again.
I've had relationships before you, but the feelings involved were nothing compared to what I felt for you. I never knew it was possible to love someone so much; to feel such a connection. I never felt connected to anyone the way I felt connected to you. Now that I know what's possible, I don't ever want to be in a relationship with anyone I don't love as much as I love you, anyone I don't feel that connection with. Since I doubt anyone can experience such a degree of love and connection twice in their lives, I now face a lifetime of being alone.
You tell me I will find the person who's right for me. I already found the person who's right for me, and it's you. You tell me that once I've had some time to heal, I should get back out there and try again with someone else. The trouble is, I don't want someone else. I want you. You have ruined me for all future relationships.
I know there are people out there who are voluntarily single, and lead happy, fulfilling lives. Maybe I can be one of those people. I know that I'll never have another relationship.
Right now, I'm still hurting intensely. I can absorb myself in my interests for short stretches, and I enjoy the temporary distraction. I can't sustain it for long, though. My thoughts always find their way back to you, and the pain has not begun to subside. Today, I was food shopping after work, and this sappy love song I don't even like came on about "A Moment Like This." The fact that I don't like the song didn't stop me from thinking of the many exhilarating moments you and I shared. I thought about all the moments we shared, and how happy they made me. Then I thought about how I can feel like that again, and I spent the remainder of my time in the supermarket fighting back tears. I'm not sure how I managed to finish my shopping and pay for my purchases. I just barely managed to hold back my tears until I got home. I still hold out hope that you'll reconsider, though I recognize that this isn't likely.
I really miss you.
All my love forever,
C

Dear friends,

I will not slack off this time. Thankfully I'm seeing you on wednesday so all's good. I shall see you much more often, I'm sure I will.
I will not give up like I have done years before. NAH-AH.

Love from,
me

Dearest heart,
Why do you not write? I know you are kept busy with your activities, and that my letters are not easy to reply to - but why do you not reply at once? Since my revelation on my condition, you surely must know that I trust you sufficiently to convey this truth to you. I feel weak, fragile - vulnerable - so why do you not write to appease me, to assure me that you still hold me high in your regard?

Or is it that you have tired of my lamentations, repulsed by a mental disorder? And you wish to distance yourself away from me? Very well. I will survive without you.

But can I? I doubt it. why did you not suspect anything when I confided in you my social deficiencies? I think I was giving you the chance to break apart, once and for all. But the rest persuaded me that this would not diminish your feelings for me.

You understand elementary genetics, you condone nonconformism - why should you not accept Asperger's? Why?

My heart breaks to write this. But self-expression is a necessity. I would like to think I will get over you, but I highly doubt it. Nothing can blot away the memories of you gazing at me in adoration the last time we met - and parted. I have never known this experience before. So close, and yet so physically detached. I do recall my lack of bodily attraction - only a calmness in my mind - and my wonder that you could see anything attractive in my face - less feminine in my juvenile days.

So tell me, am I single or attached? My heart and soul are committed to you, but my reason tells me to halt. I cannot feel intellectual pleasure without you, I cannot appreciate the joy of love without you.

Have I lost my innocence? I still cannot tell. My simple faith is shattered. Why must labels derogate my unsullied name?

I don't know what you think. Write, write, write! I feel resolved to remain single. And I shall never be able to write about love affairs in my existentialist novel to be.

It does not matter, I realise. Even if you love me truly, I will never be able to conduct a proper relationship. I fear the reaction of your family should they discover my condition. But let me say this - I love you, I love you, I love you.

Farewell.

Unhappily yours,
Villette.

PS Sorry for the soppiness. I just had to express myself.

Dear [ ] Who Shall Not Be Named:

STFU and GTFO. I don't care if lipping people off is your favorite activity. Your parents should have slapped your lips off for it long ago and cured you of the inclination. Do you have ANY IDEA how many people you have driven off because you randomly turn into a psycho for the stupidest, absolutely mindbendingly CRAZIEST reasons? Did you really have to throw a tantrum because someone refused to tell you what they considered private personal information? No you did not. Go ahead and scream at the monitor if you must vent, but please, for the love of god, RESTRAIN YOURSELF from uttering/typing CRAZY BULLCRAP that people don't need to see/hear that would probably upset them. The world would be a much better place. And also for the love of God, if you're NOT on medication, you damn well should be. You say you are against passive aggression in all its forms and then are as passive-aggressive as HELL. Hypocrite much?

It is also godd*mn HYPOCRITICAL of you to b*tch at people or be just plain offensive randomly for no reason whatsoever and then turn around and complain about other people who you claim are offending you, for INFINITELY less offensive things. Look in the mirror if you want to find the problem. Stop blaming everybody except YOURSELF.

Dear S.O. of [ ] Who Shall Not Be Named:

You're sleeping with the most manipulative person on the planet. Ironic, isn't it? Get a life and stop defending the indefensible. BTW your own craziness is inexcusable. You are also not the arbiter of who should or should not belong to a particular group. Going on a crusade to oust "Undesirables" is NOT. YOUR. JOB. Stop complaining about NONSENSE. Stop CREATING drama with your SO, conveniently quit when it suits you, and then turn around and claim that the very circumstances YOU CREATED were solved by taking action against another person who was in reality being harassed because of YOUR CRAZY S.O, from which you'd get no luvin if you did not do their bidding. Conflict of interest much? You are not qualified to judge - otherwise, if you had any integrity, you'd remove YOURSELF from the group. Also I swear to GOD you are on the spectrum, stop being ignorantly judgmental of people on the spectrum or people who claim to be on the spectrum, and that goes DOUBLE for your S.O. I do not care how many letters either of you have by your names. You don't know it all. When it comes to Autism, you don't know s*** about s***.

BTW We'll see in about 10 years whether you don't end up exactly like your predecessor.

Dear...

Ever since I can recall you have been on my mind, every thought, every heartbeat somehow chased after your ghostly presence.Do you recall those early days? Do they matter to you at all...

God knows I've tried to forget about you, to see your smile in the face of every woman I pass by, to feel the sting of loneliness every time I see a couple stroll past, this pain truly has no end.
What have I become?
To hear how my piers brag about their explicit "achievements", how can they be so oblivious, how can they not valuesuch a beautiful gift.
"Variety is the spice of life"....*sigh* you have no idea what you are throwing away.

I have longed for your touch for so long, to finally have someone to whom I can show the true "me".
This however seems to be out of my reach, each day seems to be getting longer this loneliness engulfs my being,bursts out with every breath.
Obsessed with love, how peculiar....pathetic can I be. Surrounded by people who value nothing but living a lifefilled with illusions, perhaps I'm the one that's deluded.

Even though I'm broken, perhaps beyond repair a part of me still longs for life...balance.
I've finally been given the name, I don't know what hurts more not having you,
or coming to the conclusion that even if I were to find you...the man that I have become will hurt you, how can this be allowed.


My life started with the thought of you...are you out there somewhere?...

Dear Arno,

If you are trying to communicate with me, its not working out very well. You need to PM me INSTEAD!

Love Your Friend, Taupey

Dear Solitary Drifter, dear Lone Wanderer...

Your life is going down the drain, and you don't even realize it. Do you ever stop to think that maybe, just maybe, you should get your act together? That you can't spend the rest of your life tucked away safely in your reclusive little shell, that you may very well have to engage the world head on? No, you don't. That is why you will never land a successful career at this rate. That is why you will never get a girlfriend, get married, have kids, etc. That is why you will just drift through life and sink deeper and deeper into the hole that you've dug for yourself.

Sincerely,

The one you keep ignoring

Dear Agnieszka,
Faith, Hope and Love. Always remember that!
Yours,
A

Dear Patti, I always wonder where in life you wound up?Actually, I apologise for walking away as, it was my insecurities which brought about way too much chaos for me to stay.Still, I know that I should have said goodby though.Anyways, I hope nowadays life and people are treating you most kindly and no one is any longer tormenting you.
Myself? that no longer matters as, in some ways I've come to understand that it was best to give up the idea or hope of being aligned with a considerate,compassionate human being..


Sincerely
ProfessorX

Dear mom:

Stop trying to push stupid quackish new-age gobbledegook pseudoscientific crap on me. I do not wish to try Pureed Venus Flytrap, nor do I wish to waste my freaking time going to a demonstration about some 'magic wand'.

Dear WP:

Please stop abusing the carriage return!

kthx.

Dear friend, I've not forgotten about you even if I don't write you that often as such.
Honestly, I wished there was unlimited amount of time there was for me to write out a long email saying a great many things unto you.Well, I hope your days have been peaceful and all as, I'm trying to manage with mine on a consistent basis..
May this message found you doing well..

Sincerely,
ProfessorX

Dear FJ,

I admire you more than I've ever admired anyone, you're my hero. I think about you often and wish that I could be more like you. I'm sorry I write so often, and I'm sorry I never write about normal stuff. I feel like I pester you even when you assure me I don't. I rarely feel the human connection I hope to feel whenever I'm around you. Everything is always so sterile and professional. I feel like a fan to which you condescend rather than a friend. I feel embarrassed and humiliated whenever I try to have a conversation with you in person because I inevitably stick my foot in my mouth. I hate that I can't stop admiring you. I wish you'd do something really horrible sometimes just so that I could finally get over how great I think you are.

Peace,

Spdjeanne

Oh god, I honestly have a whole folder full of these on my computer, and a notebook full.
I've always been way better at expressing myself/my emotions in writing. Anyone else like this? I notice my current boyfriend is that way too (he's also an aspie).
Note: this is about a guy who was the president of the Women's Rights Club while we were in high school. I found that hilariously ironic.

warning: super long and badly written... this is a few years old. I swear I'm not this terrible at writing still lol.

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Dear Austin,
I shouldn’t have done it. I should have reminded you that you have a girlfriend. I should have told you how I felt. I shouldn’t have hidden my despair behind a mask of illicit confidence. I should have told you that every time you kissed me I wanted to cry. I should have told you that no, it wasn’t ok that you didn’t really love me, and you were just using me for my body. But instead I told you that I understood, I didn’t mind, that I wanted the same thing.
I wanted you more than anything I’d ever wanted. And if sex was the one way I could have you, then I wanted that more than anything I’d ever wanted. Even if I was busy, even if I was sick, even if I was tired. I cancelled all my plans and told you I was free. I am for you to use whenever you like. You like my boobs? I’ll eat more and make them grow. You like my waist? I’ll eat less and make it smaller for you. I wanted to be yours to control because that meant you wanted me around. I gave you my body, my self-respect, my secrets, my dreams, and my honesty.

“Do you promise to tell me if you two do anything again?” she said.
“Yes.” I said.

I broke every promise for you, and I pretended not to care. I pretended to love the taboo, the risk, the thrill of the affair. When in reality I was terrified, pathetic, and sick with guilt.

You have no idea how much I gave you. I really did love you. More than you've ever loved me. I would have died for you. I would have gassed the human race and lit the world on fire for you.

I am not exaggerating. I am not being “over-emotional” or "crazy", as you used to call me. I really did love you. That's why I let you do it.

Remember when you wanted me to get a therapist because you thought I was crazy because I would have breakdowns every few weeks?

Have you ever loved someone so much you wanted to kill yourself? So much you couldn't sleep? Couldn't eat? Couldn't feel anymore? Because you watched him whisper in his just-for-you voice to someone else right in front of you every day? And then listened to him tell you about her? About how great she is? When he knows how much you love him? When he knows you can't even eat anymore because of him?

Have you ever loved someone like that, and then tried to pretend it's ok? You would go crazy too. I asked you if you would ever love me again. Your answer was, “Probably in five or six months.” And I marked my f*****g calendar and waited for you. I know you lied to me. I bet you lied even more than I know, because you lie to everyone so easily I may have missed a couple.

You told me your secrets, and I kept them. That’s right. I kept them. Even though you thought I was untrustworthy and would tell, and you told me this, I didn’t tell anyone. Because I loved you. Even though I knew you didn’t trust me. I told you my secrets, and you told them. In front of me. To people I barely knew. Do you even remember my secrets? You probably didn’t care enough to. I hope you don’t remember. Or else you would still tell people.

Even after our relationship was over (if one could call it that), you still managed to hurt me. You broke promises like they were fortune cookies and excused it with “Well you promised you would love me forever.” You continued to make fun of me. To insult me. You said you were glad I wouldn’t see my boyfriend for a long time because I wouldn’t be able to stay away from you. You continued to make me feel like a worthless whore for having loved you enough to say yes.

And when someone finally listened. Finally wanted to hear everything. Finally took my side and told me to stay away from you, because all you did was hurt me. When someone finally told me that, and I realized it was true, you said I was lying.
You said, “Wow, this is low, even for you.”
Which was low, even for you.

And I’m sorry, but I’m glad I don’t talk to you anymore, because all you ever did was hurt me.

I have a notebook full of letters I will never give to you. One each day until April. I was on the brink of death for six months. I couldn’t function.
I would walk back from your house, sobbing, and then climb out onto the roof in the rain and lie down, facing the sky, for hours, until my hands turned purple and I couldn’t feel my body and I wanted to throw up.

Every day my head hurt, my joints ached, my eyes felt like rotting eggs, and my stomach would convulse at even the thought of food. I realize now I could have been called clinically depressed, but at the time I thought it was just more evidence of how disgusting I was.

I wished on every star, every dandelion, every penny, every eyelash, for you to come back to me. I used to wish for you to love me. But eventually I didn’t even care. I just wanted you. But then you f****d me, and I convinced myself. I convinced myself that even though you had a girlfriend that you wouldn’t leave. I convinced myself that even though it was a complete secret. I convinced myself that even though you wouldn’t talk to me in public. I convinced myself that you would love me.

If I gave you a little more. If I made myself a little prettier. If I pretended to be just a little happier. You could love me. I let you fix me, break and rebuild me. I’m too sad? Ok, I can smile and laugh. I’m too emotional? Ok, I won’t tell you the next time I cry. You want a friend? I’ll pretend to be over you. You want a lover? I’ll come right back. I learned to hide. I learned to say nothing but “I’m sorry.” I learned to expect your mood swings and adopt them into my schedule.

You’d call me over Sunday night for sex and I would skip on over, wagging my tail. On Monday you would stick to her like a glove. Guilty conscience?
Tuesday you would avoid me all day and tell me that night that you hate me and you don’t think we can be friends anymore. I would cry and cry and cut off more of my hair.
Wednesday you are warm and friendly and we f**k again and afterwards you tell me you love me. Thursday you are calm, unreadable, and distant.
Friday you tell me I need to get over you, because I am crazy and it’s been like seven months already, when will I learn to let go? Maybe I have attachment issues.
Saturday you f**k me and say you’ll love me forever and don’t worry you’ll break up with her next week.

When you finally did leave her (which took you seven months), we dated for four days until you decided you actually loved her, not me. I asked why. You said “she’s just...her.” I sobbed for an hour, while you comforted me. I’d finally gotten everything I’d wanted. No lying, no cheating. You were mine. And then you weren’t. Because she was just her. I apologized for crying and taking up your time and said I would leave. But you told me,
“No, it’s ok. I’m so sorry. Cry as much as you want. You can stay.”
So I stayed, and cried, for four hours.

When I got home, I was welcomed by an email from you:

“I need you to not do that again. I really can't believe what happened. I know you are hurt and I know you are in pain, but you cannot barge in kicking and yelling and then refuse to leave for four hours. If you come by again alone, I'm not opening the door for you.” I guess it wasn’t ok.. I guess I shouldn’t have cried as much as I wanted. I guess I shouldn’t have stayed and let you comfort me.
And on top of it all, every time I would finally start getting on with my life like you told me to, you wanted me back. Again. I was serious when I told you that you are a porcupine. What kills me the most is that I still remember.

I remember your scent, exactly. I remember the texture of your face, the lines in your palms, the taste of your skin. I remember the feeling of your stupid pillow and the sound of your laugh that, even now, still scares me. I remember what it was like to have someone who would look only at me. Who would tell me they love me over and over and would love me forever. Who would tell me they would never leave me. And I remember what it was like for that person to tell me they hated me, thought I was immature, annoying, disgusting, over-emotional, and worthless. And I won’t be able to forget. None of us ever really forget.

I did everything right. I tried my best to comfort you when you were sad, I was happy with you. I brought you cake and gummy worms when you were sick. I knew all the things you liked and all the things you didn’t. I picked up every time you called and replied to every text message. I supported you through rough times with your girlfriend and listened when you wanted to tell me how good things were going with her. I wore hair ribbons after you told me you liked them and I started paying strict attention to my figure. And I slept over when you said, “You know what happens at sleepovers.” You used me and then tossed me to the side when you were done with me.
Over and over and over again.

And then you have the nerve to pretend it was me who did it all.
You have the nerve to tell people who don’t know me well enough to know it’s not true that I use people, and then throw them away when I’m done. You have the nerve to forgive me. You have the nerve to call yourself a feminist.
You are a monster. You have hurt so many people.
And I don’t think you even realize. Because, as always, you paint yourself the victim.

Love,
Me.

_________________
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