Another letter unsent

I think there’s always going to be this part of me that wishes I had never met you or gotten close to you. You’re only three years younger than me, and I’ve only known you for around eight months now, but for at least the past four of those months, I feel like the feelings I have towards you are not feelings I should be having towards anyone except my (potential) future kids. And as much as I adore you, you scare me sometimes, because you’re just so innocent and vulnerable. It’s frightening to worry so much about another human’s well-being.

That’s not what’s bugging me right now though. What’s particularly bugging me right now is whether or not you’ll still be the same person you are by the time you graduate in three years. Because we need more people like you out in the world. We need more people who are thoughtful, creative, inquisitive, imaginative, wise beyond their years, quirky, kind-hearted, silly, and sensitive. And a lot more adjectives that describe you that I’m probably missing. I have no doubts that if you can make it to college, you’ll be all set. But high school, even a nurturing high school like ours that suits you perfectly, can absolutely beat those things out of people, and the idea of that happening to you makes me really sad. (Oh, and let’s not even get started on the even more terrifying fact that you might switch schools sometime before your senior year, for whatever reason, and end up at a place that eats you alive.) Studies show that you only need one person in your life who gets you in order to have the confidence to stay who you are, but I’ll be graduating in just over a month, and being three grades above you, I’m not in any of your classes, and so I don’t really know how most of the other freshmen treat you. So is there someone else who gets you? If there isn’t, then how are you going to get through high school with the essence of yourself in tact?

And the worst part of it? I’m not even really going to know if you maintain your integrity or not throughout high school. Sure, I’ll come back and visit, but not for more than a day at a time, and not enough to get a sense of it. All of this came up because a friend of ours made a passing joke about how he was corrupting you. Well, if it were my choice, he would do nothing of the sort. But it’s not my choice, and I know that. People say that if something’s not in your control, then there’s no reason to worry about it, but personally I’ve never understood that advice. The fact that it’s not in my control is exactly why it’s so stressful. If there was something I could do to make sure you could always maintain that core of yourself, even without me around, don’t you think my mind would be much more at ease?

So, to sum it up: You are an utterly amazing person. I hope that you never change the way you are, but at the end of the day, all I can do is hope that. And that’s scary. So despite how happy you’ve made me throughout this year, sometimes I wonder if all this anxiety is worth it. And on top of that, I’m going to miss you. Either way, I am still in disbelief right now that I was stupid enough to make any all-new friends my senior year of high school.

I vaguely remember us talking about the state of humanity over cheap streetside dinner two nights ago.

I think I went off on a tangent there, ranting in short sentences about how the world isn’t getting better because of all the ignorance floating around, until you pointed to yourself and asked “like me?”

I fell silent.

Earlier that day, you told me you wouldn’t be joining the campus elections. 

Earlier today, the election results came out. They’re not what I expected, I admit, but winners are winners.

I read about this year’s turnout.

If I’m not mistaken, only half of this university’s twelve thousand students cast their votes today. I understand how several of us have jam-packed schedules and thus not much time to queue at our precincts, but then there are people like you.

I look back on that streetside dinner and I can’t help being a little pissed at you. You weren’t truly ignorant—you acknowledged what was going on, so maybe you were just lazy. I just wish you (and maybe the other six thousand) cared a little more to not knowingly do nothing. We’ll be entering the real world soon, and we might as well already be immersed in it. Plus, it’s not like humanity’s completely hopeless at the moment. That’s supposedly why our university exists, is regarded as one of the country’s beacons of hope, and is known for its tendencies to speak up and spearhead things. But if our university is also filled with people who stay quiet and resign themselves to the tides…

Look, I know that you’re a guy and I’m a girl, and it’s obvious to me that that’s an issue for you. But gender roles aside, I still truly care about you. I care about you a lot more than that guy whom, much to my dismay, you call your best friend despite the fact that he nearly bullies you sometimes. I think he’s a nice guy overall, but I can’t stand the fact that you think he’s the only person who wants to be around you. Because he’s not!

I know you don’t have many friends, and that makes me sad. Look, when I met you five years ago, you were this obnoxious kid that made jokes all the time and got told off for them. And I was the one who figured that being told off so often must not have been very fun, which is why I didn’t. I humored those stupid jokes. And we teased each other as friends for the rest of the year, but then at random times you would be genuinely nice to me, just out of the blue. And I really did consider you one of my main friends.

Then we were on different campuses for a year. But by the time you were a freshman and I was a sophomore, you weren’t obnoxious anymore. You were just sad and sulky and so obviously lonely, and yet your face lit up whenever you saw me. And I cared about you, and we had lots of good moments that year, but I didn’t give you much thought. Regardless, it bugged me that everyone else only complained how obnoxious you were. You had changed, even by that time. Why didn’t people see that then? Why don’t they see it now, when you’ve come even farther and are basically the most genuine, gentle-souled, kind-hearted person in existence whenever you talk to me? I don’t know why, but it makes me really sad.

As for your sophomore year and my junior year, things were obviously quieter then. I avoided you for about two months after you blocked me on Facebook towards the end of the summer (which also was saddening to me; I promise, if you ever do unblock me, I will never comment on those “comment if you think I’m a good friend” status messages ever again. I truly didn’t mean to embarrass you), but we had one or two nice conversations, and I remember how happy you were when I wished you a happy birthday. But I also remembered you telling someone once that the aforementioned guy was pretty much your best friend. And again, that made me annoyed, especially now that I’ve spent so much time with both of you this year and have seen just how awful he really is to you.

Don’t get me wrong, I do want to be your friend. Very much. But I’m also graduating in four months, so that’s not going to help you that much. Just please, promise me that I won’t be the only person to sign your yearbook this year. I don’t like seeing you so sad all the time; you should smile more often. I just wish you were happier, that’s all.

You don’t know how much you mean too me. You’re my only actual real friend that has stuck with me throughout these past three years. I miss our sleepovers, when we would watch Bridesmaids and just kill ourselves laughing, go on omegle and look like total tool bags, or our midnight walk around towns, and we’d just talk about all of our problems.I miss those days. I sometimes wish i didn’t leave you in this trashy town.. i wish i stayed with you until you left.. i wish we didn’t drift apart, you’re the only person that truly matters to me in this life. You’re my bestfriend, my other half. It hurts me every day knowing we won’t ever be the same. It hurts every time we talk, trying too push ourselves into becoming friends again.. the sad thing is, we both know we’ll never be the same cause we’ve both moved on. Although we aren’t as close as we were before, i never want to lose you, you’re always going to be my number one bestfriend. Forever. Love you Sully <3

Hello. I hope you are well. I have something to tell you, and it doesn’t matter to me if you read this or not, but I hope you do. You were right, and I was wrong. But also, I was right and you were wrong.

When we had our talk on September 11, 2009, you said a lot of things I didn’t want to hear, but eventually, I took them all in and tried to accept them. You recommended that I seek therapy—that it had helped you and Mary. Eventually, I did. My therapist and I talked a lot about my childhood, my parents, religion, God, Catholicism, and you and Mary and the whole ordeal.

So you were right about that. I needed help to get over a few things. I still feel a bit foolish thinking you and Mary could have been helpful to me.

You were right about Maryanne, too. She does in fact not have a “light” that shines within her. After the fallout, we discovered that she is actually one of the most selfish, conniving people I’ve ever known. She tried several Machiavellian-style maneuvers on B.. Book club has become a chore to attend; B. calls it “the Maryanne and Lulu show.” So you and Mary were right about that too, and Mary was right to end that relationship. B. had to maintain some kind of relationship with her because they work together, but recently Maryanne changed departments, and she basically forgot that B. exists. They rarely speak. We’ve come to the conclusion that she’ll be anyone’s friend as long as she needs something from them. As soon as she discovered that B. wasn’t really into fawning over her or indulging in her dramas, their friendship cooled. So yes, you were right about that, too.

But here’s what you were wrong about: me. I know that you did not understand what I was trying to do. I know that I fumbled my message over and over again, trying to make it right. I needed your help and I wanted it. I was desperate for anyone to listen to me. I felt so betrayed, and so foolish for making such a big leap of faith. It was all about God and family and love; I wanted those things so much. It still aches inside of me.

In 2010, I began meeting with priests. We talked some, I cried some. I met with a woman from the RCIA. I learned a lot about sacraments and obligation, and some things about the inner workings of the church. It was very fascinating. There were times I wished that we were still friends, just so I could ask you and Mary questions.

I attended a Sunday Mass. I was underwhelmed.

Right now there is something in me that wants to believe, but does not. I have read a book or two about Christianity since we spoke, and I’ve talked with a lot of people online. I’ve considered the Episcopal Church. But something keeps me away.

I’m sorry, Paul. Sorry I didn’t understand Holy Obligations and why that’s a big deal. I’m sorry I opened my heart to you. I’m sorry I couldn’t ask for help until it was too late and I’m sorry you didn’t want to offer it. I’m sorry I loved you and your wife, and I’m sorry I told you I did. I’m sorry you did not love me back. Actually, I’m not sorry for loving you and your wife. If I loved you “what business is it of yours” anyway? I’m sorry you and I and B. and Mary don’t get to be friends, and have cool parenting adventures together.

Sometimes I wish I could call you—that I hadn’t deleted your phone numbers and email addresses. Sometimes I wish we could all still be friends. But then I remember how much you hurt me, and my wife. That’s when I realize that even if I want to be friends, to “have fun” and conversation with you and Mary, it can never be.

Maybe I’ll never be a Christian again. Maybe I’ll never genuflect and praise God quite the same way that you do. Maybe I’ll never take communion like you do. But I know something about human decency. And I have to tell myself that what you did was not only “not nice,” it was also the most un-Christian—the most indecent—thing to do.

So I guess I was wrong about you, too. Goodbye.

My Dear Amelia,

            I hope you never have to read this letter, but odds are, you will. I’m sorry for what he did to you. I’m sorry you believed in him. And I’m sorry he left you as broken as you probably are. The only solace I can offer you is not a cheery, “The sun will come out tomorrow” thing. It’s not “You’ll get through this” (although you will) or “He’s a jerk” (although he is), but an honest, “I know what this feels like.”

            What does it feel like? Maybe like a part of you is missing. You know what that part is? The part of your heart you gave to him. The part of your mind holding the memories of him. The part of you who you were before he came along. Now you have to learn to let him go. This could take hours (as I’ve heard for some girls) or weeks (like most) or months (like me) for you to completely move on. Forgiveness is key and will come with due time (this, you taught me, my darling). It’s okay to cry, to hold on to nothing, and to miss his hands, his voice, the way he brushed your hair out of your eyes. It’s okay to hate him a little, just as it’s okay to love him a little (or in all honestly, more than a little). It’s okay to not know where to go, to pretend you’re fine, or to break down and cry and cry and cry. I know you don’t want him (and knowing you, maybe no one else either) to see your weakness, but don’t be afraid to come to me.

            Trying to make sense of it will be hard. You know, figuring out why he consumed and polluted your world to begin with. Maybe you’ll think of a reason: to let you make mistakes with him rather than the one, to teach you a lesson, or to give you a glimpse of what it feels like to fly. I don’t know what you’ll come up with. You may have no reasons now, and that’s okay too. (I had to get my reasons from you). Maybe all you’re starting to learn how to comprehend is that he’s gone now. And maybe even this your mind sees sense in, but your heart sees no sense in it at all.

            Laughing feels fake, doesn’t it? You’re not absolutely depressed, but you’re not the least bit happy either. In certain moments, lost with giggling friends, you forget for half a second and slip up with a laugh. Then in the same quick second, you wonder why you’re laughing when you’re so unhappy and you stop. If you don’t stop, then you feel the bogus air rising inside of your spirit. Some girls are okay with being fake to not show their weakness. Hey, whatever works for you. But maybe you are the type who stops laughing and starts crying, or at the very least falls silent

            It probably hurts the most that he doesn’t seem to care, now does he? He goes on with his life as if you didn’t exist. And although this will hurt greatly, in case you didn’t notice, to him, you’re already history. Of course, he’s very much still a part of you. I highly doubt he stays up at night crying himself to sleep over you like you do for him. If only he cared half as much as he promised he did, right? Wouldn’t that make this easier?

            Dear, I’ve been describing what you might be feeling. I know this letter isn’t much of a pick-me-up, but it’s honestly for sure. It’s to let you know you are most definitely not alone. I know after a while your friends will get tired of letting you cry on their shoulders, talk about him so much, or see your breath catch when he walks into a room, but I won’t. Trust me. I know how you feel. Whether you believed me back then or not, your brother did the same to me. But look at me now. I’m whole, right? I’m okay. I’m living. I’m breathing. I’m fine. I’ve learned to forget. I never told you this, but to this day that I am writing this, it still hurts. Don’t think for a minute that after all of these months I want him back. Hell no. I just miss the friend I thought I had in him. I miss the boy I believed in. And I sometimes wish I’d never known him at all, because it still hurts to hear his voice or meet his eyes. It hurts that he could hurt me so much and not possess the slightest idea. But you know what, sweet girl? Just like I’ve learned to cope with these feelings, so will you. Good luck. You don’t need him. He lost the most beautiful thing he ever had. God’s got someone better in store. Know I love you. 

Truly Yours,

Olivia. 

A.

I feel broken. My heart is in my stomach and the acid eats away at it. Knowing you are no longer in my life leaves me empty. An emptiness the exact shape of you now resides within me and will become a permanent fixture. As I walk to class, my eyes and soul involuntarily search for you. I am full of you, thoughts swim aimlessly and hopes, having nothing to survive on, fall slowly away. Images of your dark arms around my pale nakedness are burned on to my eyelids, there is no escape from you when I close my eyes. I could have stayed in that safe embrace forever. I feel so unbelievably heavy. Your eyes looked so deep into mine, as if to speak the words you could not bring yourself to say, the ones you would not allow yourself to utter. My fingers traced the outlines of your noble features, as if to commit them to memory, somehow knowing memory is all I would be left with. You never told me about the day you got your scar. Somehow I knew I would not know you very well or for very long. The power between our locked eyes stopped us in our fevered embrace and we grasped each other, wishing things were different, wishing we could hold on. Life tears us apart and my heart is torn along with it.You showed me what is possible, what is essential, what I am capable of feeling. I can no longer accept substitutes and I thank you for that. You made me feel so completely beautiful and accepted. Standing on your feet dancing around naked in my room, unable to say goodbye we kept falling into each other. Is this goodbye? It has to be right? In a perfect world it would be the beginning. I’m sick with the unfairness of it all. You were so silent. I could have loved you. I wish I would have told you. We tried to build on wishes and the foundation fell away.

O.

We’ve been friends for a while now and everything’s been great. it’s given me the chance to get to know you on a different level. we tried the whole being together thing a few times and for whatever reasons, it never worked out.lately i’ve been having a tough time trying to be just friends with you. I feel like i care too much and that i’m putting too much effort in, if that makes any sense. Truth is, I’m still in love with you. I love your smile, your eyes, your stupid laugh, your humor, i love every inch of you. You’re the most beautiful thing that has ever walked into my life. I just wish you could be mine. I know that it’s really selfish of me to feel that way but it is what it is. I keep telling myself that one day, if it’s meant to be- then it will be. That’s all i really have to hold on to. I know it’s sick in a way, well in every way possible actually. But i can’t tell you how I feel again because I’m so afraid to lose you again. You’re the best person I know and I want you to know that I just want you to be happy- and if that means not with me then so be it. I’ll always be here for you. I may never be able to understand the things that go on your head or why, but i want you to know i’ll be there no matter what. 

Love,

Me

I know you have seen dark days. But I wanted to show you light. I keep talking to C who asks me to lose you, but when I do the cheesy task of flipping a coin, my heart wishes for you. I wish you could understand the depth with which I loved you. Yes, I am over you, but residual feelings remain. And more than anything else fond fond memories of a girl who in the madness of love found a man so flawed that he has forgotten to love himself.

Someday I hope you find love that makes you understand the value of simplicity and joy in life. 

Love

The Girl whose Love you never Understood

i have loved. I hate how we can’t talk anymore, because you’re the only person I really like and really want to talk to. I’ve torn myself up over you night after night, quite literally. And I know you belong to Annabelle, that she reigns over you, so it doesn’t matter. You’re my best friend, or something close to it. I want to be with you so bad it hurts, and every time I close my eyes I see your face. I just hope you know that you’re… amazing. And the closest guy in my life, besides my father. Got that?

I don’t understand. Why not me? You look for someone else while you pine for her. And yet we want the same things. Everything you say you’re looking for adds up to me.

So why not me?

When I’ve confessed how I feel, why do you not tell me there is no hope, there is no future? Why do you continue to lead me along this path? Is there a chance? Is there hope? Or are you just leading me along for nothing?

My love, did you try to reach me here? I’ve a fleeting doubt so I ask… in fact, I see you in everything so I just might be wrong.

Please, please and pretty please contact me soon. I’ve things to say to you and I have all my love preserved and with you — I need to share.

Write soon?

Yours ever,

Rome.

Please. Help me. Please do. Please notice that I need it.

I’m not strong enough to ask for it.

Thank you for teaching me the meaning of love. 

Yours, S

I wait for you online every night. Every night I want to call you and talk to you. To discuss my day with you and to tell you what happened. I am learning that definitions aren’t there and that people change all the time. I wish things didn’t have to be so weird right now.