Just the two of me.

ME: I regret so many things. Somedays I am so stupid and I make the worst choices in the world.
BETTER ME: But you are working on that. Experience will shape you into a better person if you let it.
ME: I love dreaming. I never want to wake up. I sleep all the time. I'm losing the battle agaisnt it again.
BETTER ME: You love the sunrise. You love the mornings. You can't lose. You'd miss them forever.
ME: My dreams are becoming terrible too. I never want to lay down at night.
BETTER ME: The night always tries to take you and sometimes you let it. Lay your head down.
ME: I still miss him.
BETTER ME: That didn't stay for a reason. You have to stick aroud and find out why.
ME: I can feel myself getting sicker. It's running through my veins.
BETTER ME: This is the one thing you cannot run from. You cannot run from yourself. It is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. It is the end of the beginning. If you can't let go now, you will miss the rest of the story.
ME: I need more time.
BETTER ME: Why live forever if you aren't even going to spend the time you have already living?


ME: I am alone.
BETTER ME: We both are. We may always be. But we have to find out.


ME: I'm scared.
BETTER ME: So am I.

Never a word to me of selfishness.

I sat. Looking through a window. Watching you ruin me. And I kept my mouth shut. I let you walk all over me. Use me. Hurt me. You didn't care. Selfishness consumed you and all you saw was a mirror. Watching yourself become what you wanted. But there I was on the other side. Seeing the same image you saw. Seeing the same problems. Watching them. Helping you fix them. But then I forgot myself. I had my own life to deal with. And it didn't matter. It was all you. And I let it be. And I still am.

Breaking through the blue.

Maybe we can't all be looking for something amazing or profound. We can't search for organization in our lives and hope things will fall into place with the help of fate. Looking doesn't always guarantee finding as those of you know who have ever lost that left sock or the tickets to the homecoming game. The world may always seem like it's conspiring against us but really, it's just ourselves making every bad thing into a terrible thing. We conspire against ourselves because it's easier to explain how things are hard for us or how we failed if something is working against us. When we look for meaning or miracles or whatever it is, this is how we feel. Everything becomes smoke making it hard for us to see what we are looking for. Every time you try harder to see something, the smoke gets thicker. What we don't realize, is maybe the smoke is profound in itself and it's the worlds real signal to us. Everything against us, to realize it's there are run knowingly into it, that's profound and anyone willing to look for it, is just as amazing. Maybe everything I am writing means nothing and I think that's okay. A lot of things mean nothing like wire trash cans full of holes. But the truth is, sometimes, nothing is all I can handle. Sometimes it's all I want to handle. And if that makes me happy, why not?

Last shot?

Dear ____,

Just for the record, it still hurts. Every time I think about you or what I should have done differently. I'm sorry that I screwed up and that I continually nag you. I love you. I'm sorry for that and I'm sorry I'd do anything to have you back but you were my best friend and you don't even care about me anymore. I'm just a hassle. I understand you want to be cautious but screw cautious! I'm not an idiot. You belong to her now. You are happy and I get it. I just want my friend back. I can feel that everything you say is just to pity me. Just stop. Just care. Maybe not like you used to but care. I'm sorry things ended how they did and I'm sorry you could care less and I'm sorry that you are you and everything. Help me.

Emily.

The truth no one will ever read. Or care about.

Wanna know my biggest secret? I was planning something great for it but what's the point? I'll die before I get the point. So, here it goes.
My biggest fear is that when I am on that overpass watching the ground fall beneath me more and more, and I do finally decide to stop fighting and let my wheel drift just a little bit more the the right and over is what I'll think on the way down. That I won't think of everything that made me want to do it but the things that held me back for so long. I'll see beautiful things and see happy memories. The best part of my life flashing before my eyes in those three seconds. Not just that but I'm afraid I'll see what hasn't come and what now won't. The eyes of the man I would never get to love. The first steps of the son I would never have. The life I would never get to live. And after all that, in the millisecond before the sounds and crashing and breaking of the car, I would realize something. I would realize I changed my mind.

Before you go.

Dear ___,

I'm listening to you talk on the phone right now. How quiet you are. It's just a whisper. Slowly every word struggles to get beyond your lips. It's much better now. Better than it was. But I can still tell. I spent my life memorizing your voice. Now I know the one you have just as well because of how it isn't like your old one. Knowing something by what it isn't. I forget what theory that is and who's it was but it doesn't matter. I feel like I should tell you this. It feels like the end of something. He's cheating on you. And it's fairly recent. From since I was in 7th grade. It was after, but not right after. I am sorry I hate you. And I'm sorry you are unloved by everyone. I know how you feel. But I still have time. You don't. And I'm sorry your life was wasted like this. I wish you had a second chance and although I can no longer love you, I'd give my life just to let you start over. For the record, I used to love you. You were my everything. As it should be.

Forever sorry,
Emily

Repeat repeat.

This one is to you. Again.

Dear ____,

It was never like I wanted everything to happen that way. And it's certainly not how I wanted things to turn out. In the beginning, it was easy to not feel much. Well, I don't know if that's the right way to say it. I felt something. Just not like you. Something told me that you chose me because she wasn't available anymore. I was the second best thing. After awhile and you made the choice and I forgot about it. You were so perfect and that was so wrong for me. I got mad all the time because I knew I didn't deserve you and when the next girl came around I'd be left behind. I don't know how long she has been there. I'm scared to know. I think you really did love me. I know it was hard. I know. You loved me even though I wasn't the best. I don't think it was what I was ready for. After my whole life of never being loved without questions and then you come along and get really close. But not close enough. You left. That's what killed me. Why should everyone else get to be loved so unconditionally? At all, even? When I am not loved at all. At the end, I was just second best. I think I was the whole time. Just until your budding relationship got going. That was the only time you needed me. But I needed so much more. I don't know what could have happened later on. If you were the "one" but that's just the thing. I don't know. I'll never get to know. With everyone else it was so easy to know they weren't right. But, you could have been. I hate that fact. You know that saying "better to have loved and lost than never loved at all"? Maybe it's not true. Not for all of us. Maybe it only applies to the people who have been previously loved. People who were born with people and families who have loved them unconditionally. To be honest, everything that I have gone through, if I wasn't able to change it, I would want it all gone. No matter how amazing you were. To lose something perfect isn't worth going back and risk losing it again.
I still love you.
And so does she.
I know who comes in second place.

Always,
Emily

Fall. It's okay. You don't need to catch me.

There are so many things I wish I could just forget.
Every dumb mistake.
Everytime I got left behind.
Everytime I cried.
And every funeral.

What happens when my memories are the only things that keep me alive?

But at the same time are the things that make everything worse?

A sea of open thought.

Maybe we can't all expect we will have a second chance.

Maybe we can't keep waiting for what we want.

Maybe we will never understand what we are doing here.

And maybe, we should all be allowed to change our minds.

Shawn the kind musician from Nebraska.

I screwed this life up. I want a new one. Pack my bags, run away to some quaint little town where no one knows me and start all over. I can tell them lies. Tell them my name is Penelope or Ruth of Beatrice. I could tell them I used to be a librarian or a ballet dancer. I could be anything I want to be. I could tell them the truth or I could lie. I could tell them I had 12 brothers and sisters. Not that in particular but what matters is I could tell them and it would become me. I could be anyone. Leave everything I didn't want and take all the things I did. I wouldn't mess it up. I'd make it a good one. I have nothing here. Nothing to lose at all. All these people would eventually stop searching. Their ignorance would be every one's bliss. I'd want to be Shawn. I think it should have been my name. Emily means industrious. I am not. I'd be Shawn, the kind musician from Nebraska. I'd be a better me.

A fight for the plastered life.

In high school, everyone tells you that your life will begin in college. Why not now? They've got me so fooled. My life is here, now, at this moment. What am I waiting for? I can't seem to wait for something but the life I will have has started. It's all around me and filling me up. It's happening and I am sitting her cherishing a day of no school on account of extreme cold? There is so much in this world that I want. I'm so afraid I'll never have enough time and even if I did, there are things in the world I will never know, never be. Why am I sitting here wasting away like every average person. All my life I have been average and maybe that's not bad. But everything on the inside of me, is not average. Not one bit. I am a freak and I want the whole world to see it because I don't want to be safe anymore. I don't want to hide or sit back and wait for something that may never come. I will be the world. Not someday, not tomorrow, but now. Now and always.

The truth shows up once more. How coincidental.

Everyone says the truth sets you free.
Free from what?
Even in America we aren't truly free.
Sometimes, lies are the only thing that we have to keep us from losing it.
Seems to me that the truth is overrated.
And besides, does anyone know what real freedom is anyways?

I'll bet not.

HA! Secrets of my humor.

I hate having so many secrets. It's tough when you are sitting around sharing your life with your friends and you have too many terrible secrets that you are just accustomed to it. Sometimes, I hold my secrets in for so long that when I let one slip, people are so shocked. And the fact that I tell them to people I don't really care about doesn't help. When you grow up with so many lies and so many things swept under the rug, it becomes a part of you. When I tell my secrets, there is no weight lifted or huge miraculous thing. I could care less. The real secrets I have will never be told. No one would ever be able to understand them. That's okay because when I feel obligated to share a secret equally as dark as one that has been shared with me, I have no trouble. The secrets I don't care if people know are dark, yes. But the secrets I keep to myself, the ones that have no start, no end, no story, nothing understandable, are the ones that will inevitably lead to my destruction. I wish my secrets could change my life but they can't.

I still love him
I miss my brother and I wish he would run farther away
I know that my friends are ready to leave me at any moment
I hate wearing socks but I've racked up hundreds on buying them
I'm the only one who knows about his affair
I've never been first at anything in my life
I'm scared a lot but I make everyone think I don't care
I cry all the time
I've planned my own death on many occasions, but I've always been too scared
I hate being nice when I fall in the shadow
I am not happy, and I never was
I feel like we are just in another fight and that you'll come back soon
I hate that nasty lotion you gave me
The only people that love me, see me once a year
I hate who I am and who I am becoming
I closed my eyes and I pretended it was you
I can't stop myself from lying

All those nasty secrets eat at me but I could care less. Telling them won't save me. Friends won't and family won't. I laugh when I write this because I may seem like one of the most unhappy, emotional, depressed, suicdal people on the planet. I'm not. If I have all the secrets and I lie all the time, I have to be able to see the truth in others and in the world. If your fucked up like me, you see shit like that. I don't think that's so fucked up.

It's hard to smile but I love a challenge.

Dear ____,

This is something I have been putting off for a long time. Something I should have said more often even when things hadn't changed. I am sad about what happened. You were my sister. I should have accepted our odd friendship because sisters aren't always nice and they don't always do the right thing. You didn't treat me how I deserved but I let that fact get in the way of everything. I still remember that one time when we snuck out and you thought you lost your phone and you slipped and fell on the ice. You threw the toilet paper down and started crying and cussing. I tried to reassure you but it was so funny and it took everything in me to not laugh louder. And I remember when we were really little and we used to sit outside in those lounge chairs in the summer and play truth or dare with everyone. Remember all those sleepovers where we'd laugh at the dumb people on the internet? And remember when I told you that I pretty much loved you? Then there was the time with the ramen noodles and your mom was on her way. It's kind of blurry. It wasn't even that long ago. The begining was. Fourth grade. Now that is a long time. I can be a jealous person when someone really matters. No one mattered like you. You started to become someone I didn't even know. And all those friends. They weren't like you. You wanted a different start and you became one of them. To all the secrets we told and to all the ones we didn't. To every apologetic hour and every step away from your house taken with pride. I'm sorry. Because of what you were to me, because you meant so much, I will miss you. I will always love you. Maybe we can't go back but the past always stays with us. Don't ever forget. Even the bad parts. Remember those so you can remember how good everything else was.

Always,
Em

Dropping in with words or meaning.

Dear ____,

Just saying hello. I have more thoughts to spill unto you. Everyone is always talking about dying these days. Everyone sees it so final and terrible and maybe it is. And, the fact of the matter is there is a lot of death in the world today. It can be quite sad. Death is sad. But what makes me mad is the fact everyone takes so much time to tell someone they'd die for them. Sometimes, it doesn't even take a person that long to say it. I know I've said it. I used to think it meant a certain thing. I thought it meant you'd do anything for someone. It kind of does. But, maybe I knew what I was saying all along. For someone like me, who has seen death, faced it, and me, who has seen many terrible things and heard many sad stories, for me, I see everything from a different point of veiw. To me, death is easy. An escape. Death is how to run away because life is different. Life is so much harder than death. To say we would die for someone is so easy because we may mean it, but it in it's directed use, is meaningless. In life, there are things worse than death. There is death a thousand times over when you live. There are many things I would die for. More than the average person. But me, there is only one thing I would live for. And it's you. I am alive now, because I haven't yet felt the need to die for a purpose. I had my purpose to live and being so alive scared me and I let it slip. I think what I have been meaning to say, after all this time, is that I'm sorry. I know it wasn't you. I'm sorry and I'm so sorry and I will be forever. I am asking what I have been hoping for. I am asking for you. For my second chance. A big chance. Maybe not to start over but to fix things. A second chance to have a real reason to go through all this everyday. Until then, only my endless and pathetic hope will keep me here. And the fact that I have surrounded myself with the most amazing people in the world. I may slip up here and there and be with people not so amazing, but those people that stick with me, who've been there, will keep me until I find what I am looking for.

Forever sorry,
Emily

Untitled.

Dear _____,

Why'd you have to leave? You had your girls. You weren't alone. Parents shouldn't have to bury their children. And children shouldn't have to bury their parents before they graduate high school. What is she going to do when she gets older? I can't even believe that you are gone. I'm scared because things are never going to be the same again. I'm mad at you. But I am going to miss you. We all will. I'm going to hate having to watch her suffer. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything that no one could understand. I'm sorry. Goodbye, _____.

Emily

More bull shit.

Remember those talks about bullying in school? Where you really thought that things could change for you when they talked about how bad making fun of others was? There were always the people who spoke out in the discussions. Not the people who wanted a change. The people who cared about how they looked. They would say "I try not to be mean to people." and "If someone looked like they were having a hard time or someone wanted to sit at my table at lunch, I would be nice and try to accept them." Load of bull. I was one of them for a while. I faltered back and forth between the bully and the victim. When I was the bully, I'd try and make it seem like I wanted to be nice. But, then, when I was the victim, those discussions with those lying 12-year-old classmates made me want to scream. I hated them. I wanted to throw things. The victim never speaks up but the bully will always lie. I wouldn't scream or make a scene. I'd sit there and nod my head like I agreed with everything. Those poor middle school kids and those terrible people who hurt them. Councilors couldn't care less. "Concentrate on your school work and things will get better." or "Try talking it out with them. Tell them politely that you would like them to stop." Message for all you guidance councilors, that has never worked, it doesn't work now, and it never will. Every hour of every day, 57 teenagers try to commit suicide. Don't pretend you are getting better at you job. That is 6 times more than it was 20 years ago. The world changes. People get meaner at a younger age. Stop doing the same god damn thing you used to. You can't pretend that if you rules apply to the world you wish you had, it would change into that perfect world. Make your rules for the world we actually live in.


Emily

I know quite a bit.

I always wished to have freckles, straight hair, long nails, tanned skin, a nice smile, greener eyes, and to be everything I am not. People always told me to be happy with myself. There is no universal rule like that. To be yourself and people will like that. It's a load of bull. People always want a good, pleasant lie. The real me destroys, hates, and is not good in any way. The real me believes in mysteries and doesn't believe in the lies of religion, parenting, government, schooling, and friendship. Especially love. Why? Because the real me isn't loved. What do you do then? When being yourself gets you hate and pain? Being myself was always important, but now that I think, I'd rather be happy as a lie than unloved as me. We aren't all meant to be happy in life. Some of us weren't meant to be born. We are the ones who ask "What did I do wrong?" only because we aren't good enough. Some people, like me, will never get a chance to be happy.

Emily


P.S. I'm sorry I said no. I wanted to protect you because I cared about you. I will regret it my whole life.

To those who deserve it.

Dear ______,

I hate that he could have gotten away from you terrible people (if you could call yourselves "people") but because you made him screw up and he isn't getting anywhere, he's going to get caught. And we'll both be left here in this hell hole. If I can't make it out, neither can he. And I will do everything I possibly can to get you screwed a thousand times over. I hope your wasted, maggot infested body burns in a flaming, isolate hell. My hate for you, will ruin his chance of ever being happy. I wish I could stangle you and watch your eyes roll into the back of your head. I want you to die. You and all your friends. I blame pieces of shit like you who can't do anything but get high for the way that he is. The police will find him. How great will he be then? If only you knew his secrets. Our secrets. The ones never spoken for they are so dark, they could empty everything inside you. The ones only I know. Just the walls and I. If you knew those, it would change everything. Even you may have a soul, no matter how pitiful and lame it is. It's weak. And broken and used. Worthless. You couldn't handle it. I can. I have kept them inside me for years. A lifetime. They would destroy everything that's left of you. She asked me why I though I was so much better than you. It's because I am. I am so much stronger and better than you. You will die and the world will go on. Lives will improve with the loss of you. You are nothing. No one will mourn when I take away your very last breath. They will rejoice with the passing of a piece of shit like you. I hate you. I hate you more than I have ever hated anyone. If I could get away with it, you'd be dead in the next 3 hours.

Emily

You're a friend.

Ahh, yes. Yet another letter that will never be read by anyone but me.

Dear ______,

You are right. You know it. I know it. I wish I could listen to you. Most of all, I wish I could explain to you, but you mean so much to me, that I don't want to tell you because I care about what you think. That's why I tell other people my secrets before I tell you. What they think won't affect me but if you were to ever think badly of me, I would be really upset. My reasons are stupid and they hardly make sense. I want so badly to just talk to you but I can't. I'm afraid you won't understand and if you can't, then no one will be able to. I have made so many mistakes and I don't want losing you to be one of them. We never fight and although this technically can't be considered one, I know what you mean. You know me and you are right. What I am doing, isn't who I am. To be honest, I have no idea who I am. I know who I'm not. This isn't me. I think that maybe people find themselves and then see who they aren't later on. For some reason, I'm going backwards. It's really dangerous and odd but I think knowing who you aren't is just as important as knowing who you are. I hate that I can't stop myself. Just yell at me. That would help. Or, maybe it wouldn't. Knowing you are dissapointed in me may be worse. I never cared whether or not people were dissapointed in me until you and her came along. You mean the world to me. I want to be myself because I know that if I'm not, I'll turn out to be the same as her. I've become one of those people we always dissaproved of. We were so much better. I knew you guys were so much better than me. I just never knew I was so much worse. Just don't give up on me yet, okay? Just not yet. Not yet.

Emily

P.S. What I did can't be taken back and I'm so stupid for it. I'm way ahead but you guys are so close to leaving me behind. Just like they did.

Crayons from the box.

Dear ____,

So, I just closed my eyes, and pretended it was you.


Emily.

P.S. Wild Blue Yonder turned out to be a very beautiful color. It's too bad I never realized it until now.

Scared infant goat mouth.

I have yet another letter. To her.


Dear _________,


I have no other way of explaining my feeling towards you than the simple phrase "I hate you". I hate the way you chew your food like a goat and how you drive like a mentally disabled 97-year-old on crack. I hate how you think puzzle pieces fit together when you shove them until they are bent and twisted. I hate how when you do things, your left hand just hovers, almost entirely useless. I hate how everything you cook turns out as something that looks like it came form a dead animal's stomach and I hate how when you make candy at Christmas time, you screw it up and ruin the nostalgic moment of it all. I hate how you forget things and how you get mad at people for the things you do wrong. I hate everything about you. How you raised your son, and how you treat me and the way you walk. I hate how your eyes sometimes look like an infant's, lost and empty. I hate how you try to talk when you have an already too large amount of food in your mouth. I hate when you make jokes and smirk halfway through when they aren't funny, no matter how clever you think they may be. I hate how you are under the impression that my friends find you funny when they are just laughing out of pity, politeness, or nervousness. I hate you for everything you've done and even the things that happened to you that you couldn't help. I hate it. But really, what I hate most of all, is how my friends hate me for hating you. For them not understanding that I wished you would have just died. I hate you for them having sympathy for you and not me. I hate that no matter how badly you treat me, I will always be the selfish one and the one who is acting horrible or being mean. I hate that I want you dead. And I hate that I'm the only one in my family that has the guts to tell you to your face, yet again making me the bad guy. I hate that you didn't just die so I could love you when you did. Now, when you die, I'll hate you and I won't really care. And I hate you for that. And I hate you because I know it's not my fault for hating you, but everyone believes it is.

Emily.



Sometimes, I wish I wasn't so scared to pretend to be happy. And sometimes, I wish I wasn't so scared to be my horrible self. And I'm scared at what that means I am.

Destroy my ocean.

Sometimes, when it's quiet, and every sound stops echoing in your brain, almost until there is a soft static, you can hear yourself create an ocean. The rolling waves of breath in and out and in and out. You can close your eyes and see the blues and greens and greys and whites. The foam gathering on the sound of you lungs. Sand mingling in your skin. Delicate and fragile rocks filling every bottomless pit. And the pounding in your ears, the sound of pumping blood, doesn't fit. It isn't part of the ocean. Because of it, we aren't the waves or the sand but with out it, there is no breath and there is no skin and there is no mind being feed just like Ocean who changes her mind whenever she needs to and is fed by the life breathing within her. She does not depend on anything that does not belong in her. Not like us. So, we destroy her. Only because we can not be her. Because we can not depend on ourselves alone. We depend on a breakable, fragile, pitiful organ. We hate the ocean, because it does not.

I like this letter thing. I'm going to do it again. This one is to me. From my head to my heart. Or one personality to the other. I'm not quite sure, but I am still saying to myself.


Dear Emily,

You are acting too pathetic for words. You are ruining your life. You almost didn't pass you favorite subject with a teacher who was incredible. You are screwing around with people you shouldn't be all because of a boy. Just a boy. A boy who didn't even love you. Not like he loves her. You tried so hard to get him back and fought with so much and guess what? He still didn't care. He doesn't care. You lied to your friends yet you told your secrets to someone who barely knows you. Your life sucks because you deserve it. Your brother is gone. Seems fair considering you haven't spoken to him in years despite the fact you were always around him. You seem upset because he has never said he loved you but you can't honestly think you deserve love. Your parents hate the way you sing, even though you love it. You got in the way of their dreams. No one loves you and that may not be your fault entirely. You gave plenty of love and you got screwed over. Sucks. So why are messing up someone else's love for another? Even I don't get you. You are mean and heartless and sad. Sometimes, you can be amazing. So nice to your friends and such. I wish you could be happy. I wish you could get away from all these people who were supposed to be there. Don't give up, though. I know you've tried to and I know you are in a lot of pain but maybe faith is just the thing you need. You can't keep being ice woman. You haven't gotten what I know you should have and that isn't fair. I mean, I know. I'm you. Someday, you'll find that amazing, Irish, soccer playing, lyric writing, charming, handsom, green-eyed man that will make up for every person who left you behind or gave up on you or who never loved you. You are smart and funny and nice. Don't ever forget that. And let go of him. He's not coming back. It's time to stop the sleepless nights and sad days. You have to move on. He found someone else that he loves so much more and you should let him be happy even if it means you are out of the picture. Let him go so you can get on with your own life. You should get to be happy, too. If it counts, I love you. Not a lot of people can say they love who they are. Then again, not a lot of people are like you.

Love,
Your smarter self.


Sometimes, all you will ever need is a slap in the face. Even if no one is there to do it but yourself. I think I'll keep this letter thing going.

Letters to the Unnamed.

This is a letter to someone who shall remain nameless (for their own sake because I have lots of very strong easily-angered friends). I haven't ever had the guts to actually write this person a letter or tell them what the following letter explains (well, not entirely) and I felt it needed to be said. Even if I am the only one who will ever read it. I hope you know who you are. In more ways than one.

Dear ____,

I am disappointed in you. Extremely disappointed considering the stupendous amount of hope I had in you and what you could give. The promises you made to me where more that hollow words. To me, they meant something. You should definitely think about an acting career because everything you said to me turned out to be a horrible lie. No one gives up like that. Especially you who was so stubborn and never gave up on anything. And sadly, I see why you left. She's cute. Freckles, sparkly eyes, nice smile. From what I can tell, she's perfect for you. And she's been there for a while, even when I was there. And I had no idea until every last amount of dignity I had left was gone. What's worse is that you and I both know you got the better end of the deal. You took your time to ease away then hit me with everything like an atom bomb. It's not like it is in movies. The broken, pathetic girl doesn't get to be happy. Her whole life doesn't become some fairytale. She's left wishing she was dead and away from her empty shell of a life. I got fucked over. And somehow, you still have me. You have me when you tossed me aside. Every freaking memory with you just makes my chest ache more. Sometimes I think I see your face in other people. I see you in my friend who makes the same jokes as you. I see you in my parents who never knew. I see you in myself who you used to care about. For god sakes I see you in my dog who we used to talk about. Everything I have now just seems sullied by the mere remembrance of you. You're off and running and I'm still not done falling. I want to be rid of you but I am stuck because you won't leave. I'm going insane because of you. I'm starting to forget how to breathe. I can't even feel my body. You were never a jerk. Not technically. But you are cruel in the worst of ways. Not meaning to, but you could have helped it. To be honest, I sometimes fear that you might be the death of me. You gave up on me and it makes me feel like I'm not worth fighting for. I would have fought for you. I did fight. Why wasn't I enough for you? Why didn't you believe in me? Why should you get to be happy and why should she get to love you? I want to hate her. But it would be so unfair. She never did anything. You did but I can't bring myself to hate you. I want to be happy, too. They say it's a choice to be happy but every time I smile it's like someone comes along and slaps it off my face. I feel like giving up. I just never want to get up off the ground. Suicide is for pussies but I don't think it will come to that. You've done most of the killing. All I need is to lie here and let go. I really want to.


Emily



That's my letter and although no one reads this, I hope he finds it. I secretly want him back, but he's already somebody else's.