Dear Whatever Your Name was At the Time.

It's not that she didn't love me.
Far from it: She loved. She loves.
I cannot be, and would rather leave
than leave her loving, yet
unloving all these things within me.

Please believe me.
We've stitched in 
absolutes and  
insoluble, 
unbreakable truths. 

To lay with you is to lie
with half of me bent on
ending loneliness 
just as you, and the other
off in the endless distance
aspiring to be everything my soul
considers its need. 

I promise, you can give no guarantee
in loving a different me. You are either
living with my old self or too far ahead of me
to be anyone aspiring to believe in me.

Dear Chandler,

I guess all of my letters will be to you.. Today I'm sad. I'm falling apart and searching for the needle and thread. My stitches are coming undone and I'm so desperately alone. I'm falling apart and searching for who I was when I was with you. I don't know how to make my words sound pretty, or how to make them flow. I don't have that ability today. Because there's nothing pretty about pain. There's no romance in watching your blood bead on the surface. There's no power in sobbing, body wracking sobs that leave me gasping for breath. Today's memory is one of the times we went to brunch together. The way you would cut a piece of your omelet off and smile at whatever I was saying. Oh. Your smile. All of the times I was rewarded with it. Your laughing smile was my favorite because it reached your eyes. Your green eyes spotted with brown and gold.
 
There's no glory in this desperation. This need. You're always on my mind. But I promised I wouldn't bother you. I promised I would leave you alone. And I'm trying to move on. I'm trying to get better. But it's not working. Nothing is. Zack was a temporary heal to a festering wound. And all he did was pour alcohol in it and watch me scream. I'm proud of myself because I've gotten so good at hiding my feelings. I've mastered faking a smile and saying I'm fine. When that's probably the understatement of the year. I love you. I have since September. And now, approximately two months away from a year when we started dating and I can feel my heart constricting. I can feel the tears pricking my eyes. You were my sun, my moon, and my stars. Now I don't want any of those. I just want silence and peace. I want sleep. I want to be able to close my eyes and not see you. I want to be able to listen to music again and not hear you singing me to sleep. I want to be able to sleep through the night without waking up shaking, reaching for you, knowing you aren't there to hold me.  I want to be able to write this without crying. 

You fucking destroyed me just by loving me. And I can't fucking recover. I can't stop the memories or the pain. I fucking try. I really do. I hide behind a razor and alcohol. They dull me. I can barely breathe. But it's okay. I'm fine. One day I'll go to bed, and I'll sleep. And you won't be in my dreams, you won't whisper things to me when I sleep, I won't wake up sobbing and screaming your name. But tonight is not that night. Tonight I'm going to drink until it doesn't hurt. Then I'm going to wrap myself in the monkey you gave me after you didn't see me for a month, and I'm going to cling to your hat like it's a life line. I'm going to read over old conversations and listen to your voice in my head. And I'm going to get lost. Lost in memories until it's okay again. I love you Kukenvagen. 

With love,
Me

Dear Gerard Way, Ray Toro, Frank Iero, Mikey Way, and Bob Bryar/all other My Chemical Romance drummers,

You are my heroes and if I ever meet you, I am going to cry tears of joy. Thank you for being the soundtrack to my life for the last thirteen years and counting.

Signed,
A diehard My Chemical Romance fan.

Dear Gage,

You were born in the back of my mind, when I was at my most fragile. You were the mask I wore when the burden of Sydney became too difficult to bear. You led me in to the arms of a man that I fell horrifically in love with, who will forever hold my innocence and with it, a part of my heart. You were what I believed to be the stronger part of myself, the one that could spit in the face of fear, of adversity. But it didn't turn out that way. You exacerbated my weakness and fragility. My heart grew dark. Through you I became someone I never wished to become. I became bitter. When I downed that bottle of sleeping pills two nights ago, when the man you led me to saved me and then told me I was nothing to him, I fully expected and wished to die that night. And in a way, I did, because it was you who committed suicide. It was your loss I grieved as I cried in the shower at five in the morning, my hands covering the shameful carvings freshly adorned on my rib cage.

But through your death, I am reborn. I am still the naive and fragile seventeen year old girl you were born from, in a scarred twenty-one year old body. But I am realizing, I did not need you for strength. It was Sydney whose heart had been shattered, Sydney who was raped, Sydney who bled. You were meant to save me from my suffering, but ultimately, you were only just a mask.

Here it is, two in the morning, two days after your death. I mourn you with a cigarette, staring at the hazy half moon, wondering where to go from here. I don't exactly know where I will be. But I will be me.

No more masks.

Forever until death,
Syd.

My Beloved,

In the weeks I spent without you, I was a wreck. I spend sleepless nights staring at my ceiling, and letting the tears pool onto my pillow. I tried everything I could to ease the pain. I followed every piece of advice I could pertaining to loss and heartache. But nothing made it easier. The weight on my heart was more than I have carried in a long time.

  The night I gave you that letter, I remembered your face. You looked so hurt, and so lost. It was a terribly hard thing for me to do, and I thought it was what was best for me. When I got home, I shattered. I choked out sobs and screams and let hot tears stream down my cheeks. I gripped my hair and I slammed my fists into the walls. I made my neighbors hate me. I got trashed off of whatever was in my fridge, and wobbled around my apartment, locked in my thoughts. I paced the hallways and stared at my feet. My feet connected to my ankles where there was a stringy, threaded bracelet you made me. In my rage of emotions I grabbed the nearest sharp object and carelessly cut at it until it fell to the floor. Blood beaded to the surface; and I resurfaced with it. The pain grounded me in the reality that I was facing. It was a real, physical pain and distracting from that real, metaphysical pain.

I was but a child. A stupid, reckless child overwhelmed with fear and pain and sadness. All I wanted was to feel happiness. To feel connected and feel loved and feel real. I had that with you. Acting as myself I started shaking at the truth and turned to run.

  I had a pasture. A field with flowers and sunshine and grass as green as green could get. It had its natural and beautiful flaws, as any real beautiful thing does, but it was mine. I would meet you here and spend my happiest days laughing with you. Although blissful, I could not live here. Every morning I would return to the dark forests and kiss you goodbye. I hated to return, parting with you and going back into the place where stress and survival took the foreground. But I learned to bear with it, because there was this beautiful place of light and love I would knowingly return to. And there you would be waiting. It kept me going. The beauty of our pastures started shedding their light on the gloomy trees of my forest.
 And on our last day I returned to my pasture. You smiled at me. You kissed me gently. You held me. But I did not return today with love - instead with eyes full of tears and pockets full of matches. And when I set that beauty ablaze you looked at me with hurt in those beautiful blue eyes and said

                                                                 Why..?

I did not answer. Because my answer was for myself. I could not possibly deserve this in my life when I had much work to do on the forests. I wanted to turn them all into pastures, but as long as this was here I would never work towards change. So I destroyed the distraction, burned down the beauty I had.

I ran back into the forest dodging trees and vines. My forest became darker as I ran from my burning fields. I ran and ran until my forest became as dark as the pitch-black night and the air became impossible to breathe. Hot tears streaming down my face and I could not slow down. I screamed at the sky and slammed my fists on trees. I scared away the birds and creatures. I paced in the darkness and I could see nothing. Here is where I found myself and here was where I would stay.

 Without you there would be no light. Without you there would be no green of the grass or blue of the sky.

And to think, this is whats best for me.

My beloved, without you I felt as though I had nothing. Perhaps it is the loss of something dear that makes you reflect. In my reflections I have come to realize that despite my joy in the pastures I never told you about my love for it all.

 I love your smile when I make you laugh over something childish. I love the sparkle in your eyes when you stare back at me in the morning light. I love that you inhale deep when you kiss me as though to breath in my very being. I love how you hold your arms around me in the night as though the world will crumble around us if you let go. Although I could try to say it a thousand ways it is true in its simplest form.

                                           I do love you.

I love you, My dear, and I am sorry I never told you.
- Once Beloved

Dear two very similar girls,

You both claimed to be my friends, you both hate each other, I've lost both of you. You were both absolutely horrible to me and made my year a living hell. I'm so depressed because of dealing with all of your shit. Grow up. We're not in high school anymore, it's time to be big girls and move on with your life. The world turns and life goes on. Life is too short to care about all of this petty bullshit. But thank you so much for making me give a shit rather than care about my grades. I hope you are happy with yourselves and that you learn to stop acting like 12 year olds, put on your big girl pants, and actually see what life is all about.

Love,
Not your friend anymore

Dear You

   Everyone says it's time to move on and live again. But sometimes I feel like you were the best part of living. I had to have a cliche somewhere in here, or it wouldn't be a love letter, right? Now down to what I really wanna say. Sometimes I hate you. I hate you as deep as one can hate another. But that hate is just residual feelings of love. It's been, what, 7 months since you dumped me? Five if we don't count that two month period where I spent every second with you because we were both going through things. You were going through the surgery and I was going through the attack. We had our own problems, but we had each other. As I'm writing this I remember, I was down there one night, we were fine. We were watching supernatural, curled up together, you didn't say anything but suddenly your touch on my waist made everything go cold. I curled up in a ball with my knees pressed to my chest against the far corner. I started shaking. I wanted to tell you everything that happened so you could understand why I needed you so much. But I couldn't. You would see me differently. I would be dirty. Tainted. Ugly. So I left your apartment. But what I never said was this. I stood outside your door and cried. I called my mum and told her everything. I sobbed like a child and then more. Because everything was hurting so much. She told me to go back in and tell you. So I did. I walked back in, took a shot of burboun and walked into your room. You gave me a look and the words just tumbled out. You became my safe place. Every extra second that I had, I would spend with you. No matter what. I needed you. And now, now I have to take six shots to forget your kisses, eight to forget the way we fit perfectly when we cuddled, and more than I can remember to count how much I Iove you. People close worry about me. I know they do. But they don't need to. I'll be fine. I promise. 
    I told you on Feburary 19th that I was moving and that I wouldn't contact you again. A few weeks before that I texted you and asked you to ignore my call. I needed to hear your voice. You did and I left a voicemail. I broke down and cried. Those were dark months. January was when it really started hurting. Because you stopped contact. But I kept my word. I haven't spoken to you since. As much as I still check on you and make sure you're okay through mutual parties, I don't talk to you and I don't pass along messages. It kills me. But it's what you want. 
    I have a new boyfriend now. He holds me, but his hands don't fit the prints you left. He loves me, but it's not as warmly as you did. He takes me to concerts, but he doesn't hold me close the next morning and tell me I'm perfect when the moon reflects off my skin and dances with the colors of the stage in my eyes like you did. He does his best. But he's not you. 
    I'm not sure when I'll get over you. Or when I'll be able to write something like this and not cry, but I hope it's soon. He deserves all of me. But part if me is still with you. I still love you. But it's better when I don't remember you. 

Love,
Me

Hey,

I cared about you a lot. That doesn’t mean at one point, or at any point in time, I felt obligated to be in a relationship with you. I just don’t want to be friends. For whatever reason, it’s fair enough that I want out, and i think the reason this conversation has gone on for so long, is because it upsets me that you would assume this had to do with me not being in a relationship with you. Hell, I wouldn’t have agreed to being in a relationship even if that was on the table, even when I wasn’t sure. Because in it’s purest form I enjoyed just being friends with you. You want to say otherwise? Fine. Agree to disagree. It still upsets me.
Now lets talk about this negativity of mine you were so apt to point out, and while we’re at it this thing you call “our karma” deserves a bit of light. Have I been acting negative? You can bet your fucking ass I’ve been negative, but don’t you dare assume I started it. Everything that I said, the way I said it, however strong that may be, was already on the table. You want to pull this bullshit negative card, and when I call you out on it, you’ve got the nerve to say. “we’ve got a lot of bad karma on our hands” let me ask you, when was this ever my karma? It wasn’t. It hasn’t. Aside from being offended by how you decided to take the situation in, aside from this there’s no blood on my hands. This is all you. I’m sorry I thought I could try and clarify this. As I said before, agree to disagree. So hey, we’re both two people who doesn’t want the other in our life. I’m not sure how we both got here, but I guess there’s no reason for me to complain about any of it.

R-

So, you're moving. I admit, I was pretty angry that you up and decided to jump ship and flee to another country. But knowing what I know, I respect you for taking care of your family. And even if you two weren't close, I am so sorry that your father passed away. I said almost everything I needed to say last night, except the one thing I jokingly told you...I meant. I love you, and I always have. Always will. I think you and I both know that. You said you hoped that I would find someone, and that they'd be a lucky guy. I'm just hoping you realize that I did, and I found you. You said that you'll come back. I'll be waiting, even if you're under the impression that I won't be.

Don't lose what I gave you, and don't forget me.
-G

PS,
Don't forget to write.

Dear fantasy of mine,

You have plenty of flaws, you must have, everyone does.
And so do I ! I smoke, I drink I don't take things seriously, I laugh as much as I cry, and I get attached. I go crazy emotional but love deeply. I also give a lot, and pray a lot for you. I am honest, faithful, generous and can be a lot of fun. 

But I am also scared a lot, run away a lot, I'm always late, and change my mind a lot.

It's what makes me human. I can make one happy, angry, and sometimes crazy. But I still love with all my heart and wish to make something beautiful out of it.

Anyways, my point is. I only go crazy when I'm insecure. When I don't know what the other person feels/thinks/wants. I am very curious, hence if I can't find out, I may lose it. I don't do that to play with your mind, or for fun, I do that because I can also be weak sometimes. Ans trust me, that is anything but fun !

I have a lot of faith in you. Call it instinct, or an intuition. But it's all plentiful positive energy. And I am not ready to let go of that. I think we can make it, you and me. We can make something magical out of this. I just need you to be willing to give a try, to make a move, take a risk with me, live. If it works out, great, we would have the most amazing time, make a lot of precious memories, and share some wonderful experiences. 

If not, and if I am wrong and was wrong from the beginning, then so be it, it's a sad thing, but at least we would have tried, we would have lived.

Perhaps I am taking this too far. Perhaps I am being all dreamy again. But your eyes couldn't have lied, and my heartbeat racing like that couldn't be random. It must be something, it has to be.

love,
The one who could only write this, but couldn't shake it and click send.

Dearest Poop,

I'm tired of always being at your every beck and call.

Sure, you apply the greatest sense of relief and, sure, we've had our bonding moments.

But enough is enough! You're a distraction, a dominating enforcer, a pain in my butt that refuses to pipe down. While I'm inching my way through the day, you're inching your way through my body. Disgusting!

Look, Poop. It's nothing personal, I just don't really want you around anymore.

You have two weeks to pack your things and leave for good.

That's all I can do for you.

Not yours for much longer,
A Flatulant Host

Dear World,

I am so overwhelmed and proud of myself for the first time in my entire life. Don’t get me wrong, I still have my moments of self-loathing, being overly critical of myself, and I constantly try to improve myself because the perfectionist in me is insane.

However, I am finally doing all the things I’ve spent years talking about doing. I have no one to thank but myself either. Nobody has pushed me to pursuing anything…and that’s a first to. I owe all the credit to myself, and it feels so good. Despite all the stress these new, exciting, and terrifying things are causing me all at once…I feel a little bit of love for myself growing. Just a smidgen.  For me, that little bit is something worth celebrating.

This kind of pride is something that everybody should be able to experience; the pride in knowing you made the choices to create for yourself a fulfilling and content life.

So to all those people who sit on the internet, day after day, looking at and reposting photos of all the places they wish to visit and things they’d do if they could…stop looking and go pursue those things to the best of your ability. Stop wishing you could be somebody amazing, do amazing things, or go amazing places. Be the person you dream of, or the person you look up to.  I’ve been that person; I know how hard it is…how painful it can be just to leave your house or your dorm room for reasons you can’t even explain most of the time.  So trust me when I say, that I promise that your life will be better for it.

Please, for yourself and nobody else, remember that the world you live in might seem dull in comparison to the picturesque lives often conveyed online…but know that it’s all about perception. No matter where you are in the world, if you just turn off the computer, stop feeling sorry for yourself, explore, and interact with the people around you, then magic and beauty will follow.

Yours Truly,

A Very Small Animal

Dear Moose,

I've been told you're angry and bitter.

My mom said never to approach you, or anyone like you.

But...maybe you just need a hug and someone to tell you that everything is okay?

Well, everything is okay, Moose, and I'd gladly hug you if you ever need an embrace.

I hope you have internet access and read this,
Hiker

Dear Redondo Beach,

What the hell is this water falling from your otherwise clear blue skies? Why are there grey clouds blocking my coveted sun? Why is it below 70 degrees? Two days ago I could wear a crop top and cutoffs and brag about the fact that living here is an endless summer. It was 83 degrees on CHRISTMAS DAY.

I DON'T OWN PANTS, BRO. I DON'T KNOW WHAT "WINTER CLOTHES" MEANS. I CAN'T DO THIS.

Stop being a douchebag, Redondo Beach. I didn't live here for 21 years to suddenly be rained on. I don't even know what that is like, why are you doing this to me?

Sincerely,
A Very Pissed Off Southern Californian.

Dear R.,

You're full of shit. We are not best friends. We are not friends with benefits. If we have been intimate with each other for almost three years and exclusive to one another, we are very obviously in a relationship. Also, you don't tell someone you love them and then change your mind three days later. You have feelings for me whether you like it or not. Get that through your head, because I won't wait for you much longer.

If you can't see that I love you for who you are, the good and bad, without judgement, and that I am basically your girlfriend, you're not worth another argument, another break up and makeup, any more of my tears, or another minute of my time. You told me I deserve better, and maybe I do. But that isn't your choice to make. I chose you, and really can't understand why you run away from me like a man covered in gasoline runs away from a lit match. I'm not going to hurt you, or set you on fire. I've been a spectacular friend, significant other, and apparently the best lay you've ever had. You're crazy if you don't want me around. Hell, if I were you I'd marry me in a heartbeat.

Call me when you pull your head out of your ass and want something more than a quick hookup in the backseat of your car. I love you, and believe me, you're going to regret losing me more than you think you will, because you and I both know I'm the best thing that's ever happened to you.

-G.

Dear Everything,

You encapsulate my shoulders and shrivel them together. Sometimes I tell myself I can just take you off them and let you wander away. Sometimes I want to so badly.

But I can't.

Your weight will keep crushing them--me--until I'm nothing but dust and you sweep me away and force me to join you atop the next person. I guess I'll feel lighter then, at least.

Soon to be,
Engulfed

Dear Role Model,

Today I met you for the first time in my life. You were so kind, professional, and truly everything I wish to be in the future, through hard work and dedication. You inspire me to expect more from myself, and you've helped me be reassured and somewhat relieved about my life pursuit. Thank you.

Der "a" key on my computer,

Would you plese just do your job? I don't understnd why now out of ll times you decide not to work. I cn't type without any a's, mn. People think I hve a weird writing disbility.

Imptiently,

Me

From fighting for you, to fighting for me.


      You know, it’s been a while since i’ve had these thoughts in my head, about you, and probably now’s not the right moment to jot them down, but it seems right to me.

I’ve got to say, I fell for you, hard. The way you get to hear from ageing couples in love. The weak-in-the-knees-can’t-keep-my-words-straight kind of feeling, the sort of thing you see in romantic comedies where the good guy always gets the girl and they kiss at the pier at sunset. Yeah, I’d fallen, but I knew you had fallen too. We were in love, theres no denying that.

We spent countless hours together. Making jokes, listening to music, kissing, holding hands… Heck, 90% of our time was spent just laying around, just about anywhere. That was our home, each others lips and arms. We felt nothing could ever break between us. But it did.

      We fell apart, we fought, we got back together, we tried to stick the pieces together again… But by the end, I’d learned there are only so many times something can break before the pieces refuse to fit again. It’s as if every time they fell, they did so in such a fashion, that they purposely got lost and jumbled, so it was very hard to find them in the same place. Very hard to start over.

You grew tired of it. Not that I blame you. At the beginning, it was all you. You fought for me, and I wouldn’t hear any of it. I was sure of the path I was treading, I wanted adventure, I wanted a thrill. I thought I had found it. Exactly how wrong I had been, was still to dawn upon me. Then the cards shifted.

Once I realised the road had taken me to a dead end, I started chasing you. I insisted and you resisted, it was the way of things. And when that last time came around and you still wouldn’t budge, I swore I’d make my way back to you one day. I knew deep down, that we were meant for each other, and I knew you felt the same way. But it was your pride that started to get in the way, and it turned out to have such a blinding effect on you, that you could no longer see me for who I was or what we had meant for each other all those years.

Again, I don’t blame you, I guess there are just one too many heartbreaks one can endure, and I failed miserably at sparing you of those.

    Time went by and I would barely hear from you. My days grew silent, and my nights tormented. I couldn’t get you off my mind. I was thrown completely off balance. I thought I knew what I wanted, had what I wanted. But I failed to see what I needed. And I had lost my chance.

Losing our relationship was hard, but losing our friendship as well was utterly unbearable. Then, something surprising happened. You spoke to me. But I wasn’t prepared for what you had to say.

You asked me if I would let my own pride aside and grant you one last shot at our, intimacy. One more night. I told you you were arrogant and selfish, asking that from me. I had the sense that you didn’t respect me, and that was that. I wasn’t going to give in. I didn’t.

I thought I had won that battle. I thought that by simply denying you this ‘pleasure’ I had won, somehow. Whatever that meant then. And when I didn’t hear from you again, I felt lost. Thought maybe I had pushed you away too hard, that I had done it for good. Then I knew I hadn’t won any ‘battles’, I had already lost the war.



    I started over thinking, like you know I always do. Those thoughts kept consuming me, until they were a part of my daily life. Every waking second and every unconscious one, was filled with the thought of you, of us, and all those things we had fought for all those years. I found myself longing for you in ways pride would no longer weigh in. To be silent and grounded was no longer an option. I cast aside my fears and doubts for rejection. I gave into my feelings, pouring my heart out more than once to you on the phone during odd hours. I made calls while I was drunk, or pretending to be drunk, for effect. I guess that never fazed you, you never budged, not one bit.

Frustration overpowered me. I knew I deserved to be with you, but you couldn’t see that like I did. I felt miserable. The last time we spoke, you made it very clear to steer away from your family and your life, for good.

Devastation. The thought of your name brought me to tears. To say your name out loud was unthinkable; I would croak and choke on the first two syllables if I was in public and continue my sobbing in private. I would lie awake at night trying to figure why I was such a bad person, why I couldn’t figure it out earlier. Realise that you meant everything to me, that I had damaged our relationship beyond repair, that you were my one and only, forever and a day. (Remember that?). I knew I had taken you for granted, but my reasons then seemed so weak now. That I could willingly let go of all that we had for a few nights of what I thought up of as an adventure at the time seemed not only ridiculous, but downright embarrassing. How could I not have seen this coming? The flesh really is the weakest part of our selves.



      I saw myself alone, more so than I had been in years. I decided to win you back, somehow. I thought of a million different plans, but all of them to no avail. I could no longer pluck up the courage to see them through, they all stayed in my mind, as ridiculous as they were, taunting me. I never acted on them because, truly, I didn’t want you to think I had gone mental. I didn’t want to be the creepy ex-girlfriend. But I had. I was.

The thought of never having you in my life again, destroyed me. I was literally, emotionally void. I couldn’t eat or sleep right for weeks. It took months of my life to get past the physical aspect of it. A point where if I heard your name, my body would automatically contort in pain around my chest, my stomach would sink and my eyes would well up with tears.



    I never did understand why, specifically, but I guess it meant I had lost something more valuable to me than I had given credit to and that emptiness inside me, had created a gap. One so deep, so dark, that my own body was afraid of letting itself be consumed by it. Like a dark vortex, engulfing my very existence to it.

I guess this sounds a little melodramatic. To me, that sounds extremely accurate.

    For months I tried everything. I even started a whole new relationship, to see if I could, somehow overcome this, ‘loss’. I thought that by putting my thoughts elsewhere and re-focusing my feelings, I could somehow, push you away. Although, I knew from the very beginning, it would mean a lot of work and patience. A virtue you very well know I don’t posses.

Time went by and it kept getting easier to forget, or rather, set aside, the feelings I had for you. However, suddenly, things started to get out of control. It came to the point that I had to watch my words in case I called him our favorite nicknames for each other, or your name for that matter. The words usually came close to spilling out from my mouth whenever I felt angry or frustrated, like your name had turned synonymous with desperation and longing.

It became worse. I kept getting flashbacks of us, while I was with him. I would close my eyes and I would see you, and I felt uneasy. During the early months of my relationship to him, I found myself crying silently to myself whenever I caught my train of thought. Ridiculous. Unfair. That’s what it was. Your ghost was haunting my new relationship, like a poltergeist, and I couldn’t let you further into my life, or his. Not like this.



    He had leapt headfirst into an overwhelming depth with no visible end a long time ago, and because of you,  I was still up at the railing, over-thinking. The only link keeping me rooted to the edge, was… I decided not to look back. I cut myself free and I jumped too. I saw the gaping hole, dark and misted and terrifying. But I wasn’t afraid. I knew he was down there somewhere, and I knew I’d find him, waiting.

I invested in my relationship, acknowledging what I was getting myself into. I compromised with him, in the emotional reality of it all. I started to embrace change. I had been moulded into  something else when I was with you. Something, I learned as I fell, that I wasn’t comfortable with. I have to admit, adapting to him, his perks, his quirks, his mannerisms; it was hard, but I made it. He and I. We made it.



    In the process, I realised something. What I had been chasing before, was an ideal, a dream. Not a man.

I knew that all those flaws that I had seen when we were together, were still there, and they were very much real. I thought about what we had ‘planned’ once. Saw myself being with you all those years, for the rest of my life, somewhere in Pennsylvania or some frigid state with a one story house and a few kids.

Remembering how you said you’d take a part-time job so you could become a pilot and buy all those things you wanted, helped me understand. I couldn’t be with you. the reasons I had left you in the first place were still true to this day. Despite everything we had gone through, I realised then and there, I wasn’t willing to fight for them anymore. I wasn’t willing to fix you.

I knew I had to stop beating myself for not being with you. I had bigger, better things beyond the towers of insecurity I constantly found myself building in order to reach my utopian relationship with you. The one where we were always deeply in love, you were so attentive and our wedding date was set right off college. Never seemed to look twice at the one I knew we had deep down. One where you scrutinised me often, wanting me to be the perfect lady. Telling me what to wear, how to stand, how to not touch my jewellery in front of people to show confidence and status.

The one where you barely did anything for yourself at home and expected everyone else to do it for you. How irritated and frustrated you felt whenever it came down to your family. How out of place you felt with them, like you were somehow trying to go beyond and above, because you were better than them. How little you seemed to care about your future, the real one, not the one you wished you could have.



    You know what? I did. I stopped beating myself. I embraced the relationship I currently hold and I no longer hurl and sob at the sound of your name. Heck, I could even write a song about it. I believe that in the end, losing you was a choice. Had the situation turned out differently, I know we’d still end up here.

You letting your hair grow and your game collection stack up as your keep repeating college courses, smoking weed and filling up with food. Me working my ass off to make a decent living and love the man I am with now, while I continue to study and learn my trade, while I try to be better than what I see in the mirror. Every. Single. Day.

This essay, manifesto, proclamation or whatever it is, is my reasoning. My prerogative. The words in it have been gnawing at the back of my mind for the longest time, waiting to break free from their mental prison. Waiting for enough spark to start a literary fire. For what purpose, I really can’t say.

Maybe its all cathartic. Maybe I’m aiming for closure. One way or the other, this experience: having you, losing you, trying to get you back and failing miserably, has certainly made me stronger.

And I have to thank you for it.

If it weren’t for your constant rejections to my advances, I wouldn’t have fallen. If I hadn’t fallen, I wouldn’t have seen the helping hand of my current partner, looking out for me and beckoning me to stand up straight again. I would’t have built up the courage to look at myself in the mirror and see how broken and small I had become. I wouldn’t have leapt, and I wouldn’t have found the love that was waiting for me at the other end of the chasm.

I now know that thanks to you and all those months of self loathing, I have a better perspective of what my life is and will be. That I still got the will to fight, but this time; I’m fighting for myself.

- Michelle Benavides

Dear Vivacious Visceral,

To be in tune with you is the ascension of nature; I can abscond beyond myself and hide in your warm, amorphous form.

It is not a love to be described through sight or touch or any sense written, but one still in the creation. Perhaps it sits in our core as we melt into smiles and thousands of fingers clasping and twirling and holding. It's a star, maybe, but that is just so we can envision what still can't be understood.

Yes, we are birthing a star for the universe while we collapse and reach through each other, setting anchors in each other's backs and silently pleading to the cold, empty holes behind us to never show themselves again. To never let go is a dream set in reality, finally.

Yours,
Voracious Vitality

Dear Kale,

If you truly had the "it factor," you wouldn't have to go looking for fame -- It would come to you like a Pilates instructor at whole foods. The way you're waving your leafy-ass arms around makes you look like a washed-up child star, and everybody's over it.

Yeah you've got some nutrients that iceberg might lack, and that's great for you. But let's nix the overexposure. One health blogger called you a "superfood," and suddenly you think you're invited to every salad and smoothie and sandwich? You're not.

You're even trying to get your chip career going by thinning yourself out in the oven dressing in expensive chocolate. You don't see romaine doing that, do you? Two words: Give up.

Sincerely,
Anyone Who's Ever Eaten A Caesar Salad

Dear... I don't even know what to call you,

After you, I don't trust anyone. I don't want to talk to anyone. I don't want to see you. I don't want to hear about you. Every time I hear your name it makes me want die. I miss you and I still love you, but I know you will never feel the same..

I'll always be waiting for you,

Yours truly;

Dear Mother,

You hit me today.

You hit me today and instead of taking it like I normally do. I hit you back. 

I hit you back and you kept trying to hit me, and I pushed you off and you screamed at me not to hit you, and I screamed at you that I was 20 years old and you don't get to hit me anymore. 

I hit you back because that bullshit isn't okay anymore. 

You know what else isn't okay? How I have more miserable than happy memories with you. How any happiness I've felt being in this house for the past SEVEN years has not been tied to you at all. How I think about when you got really sick, and how it probably would've been better for me and for my sister if you had just died.

How dare you say that I have to respect you because you're my mother. Last time I checked, respect is EARNED not just handed to you. And you haven't been a good mother to me or my sister in years. I don't care that you're my mother. I don't care just as much as you don't care that I'm a human being. That I have feelings and needs and wants and that when you insult me, and criticize me, it makes me feel worthless.

That's not how a parent should make their kid feel. You've never been there for me, why should I give you anything? Much less respect you.  

So screw you. When I'm gone, I'm gone. I'm not spending anymore time talking to you, being around you, arguing with you, looking at you, than absolutely necessary. See how many times I come home from college after this. See how many conversations we have where I say more than one word to you. See how many times I respond to your, I love you's with anything more than "sure" or "okay." And if by some terrible circumstance I have children (because lets face it, after how you've screwed me up, I can't imagine having children and not ruining them), they won't know their grandmother. Why would they need to, when their own mother doesn't even want to know her?

Because as bad as it may soundI don't love you, and I don't want to know you.

I haven't for a while now.

From, 

Taylor

Dear Meat,

I haven't eaten you in years but, with perfect clarity, I can still remember your taste.

Still, I hope I'll never have to prepare you for anyone else. I'm a terrible chef and maybe a bit crazy, considering I'm writing a letter to food. But maybe that's how one becomes a better chef: know the food you make.

Anyway, we've had some good times.

See you around friend,
Matt

Dear Reader,

Hello!

It's been a while, hasn't it?

Dear Meat was a passionate, community endeavor. I would like it to continue being just that. While our location has moved, the drive to share and showcase creative, cathartic, and powerful letters remains set in place.

Join me as we work together to share letters of adventure, thought, emotion, conversation, imagination, exploration, reflection, and much more.

Please excuse any mess as we continue to improve our new home.

Remember, you can submit letters by either mailing them to

Dear Meat
12394 Charles St.
La Plata, MD 20646

or emailing them to

dearmeatblog@gmail.com

Thanks for everything,
Matt

PS. You can still wander through our old residence at http://dearmeat.tumblr.com