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A Letter for You
I don’t know how to start this.
Every word I try is wrong.
The past four weeks have been absolutely miserable for me.
I couldn’t even begin to count the number of four hour walks I have been on, or the aimless little road trips with no destination, it was only once I ended up out of the state so far. They aren’t enjoyable, they aren’t therapeutic and they don’t help in any way, but I don’t know what to do with myself. Everything in my life is going well, but I am unhappy, which makes everything not go well.
Does that make sense?
Everything reminds me of you in some way, even things that have absolutely nothing to do with you. You made everything better and now you’re gone. You are like the sprinkles or the cherry on top. If you never experience them you never miss them. Once you have a taste everything becomes bland afterwards. The entire world is bland to me and there isn’t anything I can do about it.
I got every book I could find by your favorite author and read them all. I have meaningful conversations in my head about them lined up and waiting for the unlikely event the phone rings and you’re on the other end. I wish I could tell you how much you mean to me. I simply don’t know enough words, but I never had an extensive vocabulary. I keep going over every little thing we said in those last few conversations, trying to find something that I missed, looking for anything that would shed light on the cold darkness that has overwhelmed this once warm sunny place.
You said you had a great time with me. You said you liked me.
You also said you were too busy and so sorry.
I can’t figure out what that means. You were always busy, but that never put a halt to our occasional encounters where we laughed together and just experienced things for the experience. I asked you if there was something else and you gave me a definitive no. I have absolutely no reason not to trust you with all of my heart, but that doesn’t make me think you aren’t volunteering something. If there was a concrete reason why this had to happen it would eventually fade to a state of apathy with me, but I don’t see that happening as I cannot understand these events.
I keep telling myself that the reason you haven’t gotten in touch with me is that you don’t care about me, but I don’t think that is the case. I have no indication that you feel even a fraction as hurt as I do. I would never wish anything bad on you in any way, but I would like to know that I mean something to you. Anything.
I told you how I felt about you. I sat down and thought about how to put into words the meaning behind the amazing entity that is you.
I told you that I love you.
With the exception of family, I have never done that with anyone else before in my life. I meant it. I still can’t find a single flaw with you. You are my perfect. I have come to the conclusion that you are trying to forget me, which is the reason for the silence. Like beating to death a vibrant animal, it seems like this is the brute force approach to altering a thought. Ignore it until it goes away. I don’t want to fade away.
Not like this.
I haven’t slept well in a month. I get up every couple of hours and say aloud how I wish you here until I drift off again for another couple hours. I wish I wouldn’t wake up period. Normally I have a dream every once and a while, and it’s so crazy and weird that I think about it for a while and eventually forget it. Every night since this began I have been having horrible dreams that I don’t understand. People dying, cruel scenarios and symbols which mean everything is about to come to an end.
I feel like I’m absolutely crazy. Not just crazy, insane. I don’t want you to ever see that, which is why I haven’t called you, sent you a message or whatever else. I don’t want to make you think I’m as crazy about you as I am.
I had to delete your number from my phone to keep from calling you constantly. You programmed it in so I never even knew the number. All I know is that I had to hold down 8 to talk to heaven. Normally I memorize phone numbers at first glance, I guess not knowing might be helpful at this point.
I had to get rid of every picture of you. There wasn’t very many. I always liked that about you, you never brought a stop to a good time by trying to document everything. A lot of people do that but not you. Nothing really seems to help, the thoughts of your beauty are better than any picture anyways.
The one thing I know is that I tried.
I don’t know why you didn’t. I hope you have a good reason for putting me through this. I have never felt this helpless before, and given my history you might actually think that means something. I will trust that there is a reason. Maybe you are trying to spare me by not telling me something awful. That’s completely up to you. I know you wouldn’t do something without a good reason.
I don’t want to give up. I do plan on contacting you someday. Maybe with an impersonal email, it is the only way I know how to get in touch with you anymore. I hope it’s enough when the time comes. Until then I will try to construct a perfectly balanced summation of everything I have ever known that will allow you to understand how I don’t want to lose you. I would gladly be your escape from your busy schedule until you had real time for me.
I hope someday there will be a rebirth of myself, even if just for my sake. I hope that it involves you though, I would just rather you are around. For now I can only think of one thing to end my nuthouse inspired rant:
I miss you more than you will ever know.
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