Dear my family,
I know you’re all upset. But it was his choice. Just acknowledge it and respect his decision. There’s no point playing the blame game now. It’ll do nothing but hurt everyone even more.
Let his memory rest in peace.
Tag Archives: unwritten letters project
Dear S, I’m still confused…
21 FebDear S,
Why haven’t I heard from you? I’m still confused. I don’t know if this is the end of the road or just one of those bumps that a little time apart should heal. I feel strangely calm, but I fear that moment– that one moment when it dawns on me that you’re gone forever.
S.
Dear Meditator
20 FebDear Meditator,
I feel like such a fool. It’s been almost a year since we spent that wonderful, perfect night together, and I’m still hung up on you. It’s been a year of feeling depressed, angry, anxious, desperate and utterly heart-broken. And I keep making excuses for you. In the end, you used me, and I realize that now. Why do I let this get to me? Why do you have so much power over me? This is so difficult, and it’s hurting me more than you can ever know. It’s taking all my energy to play nice—to play by your rules, and respect your boundaries. Every time I see you, I want to tell you I’m in pain. But you don’t want to know, I can tell. The truth is I don’t even know you. And you certainly don’t know me. If you did, you would know that I’m dying inside.
Signed, The Sleeping Beauty
Dear Me, don’t fall…
17 FebDear me,
Stop. Don’t fall back into this hole you’re letting yourself get into again. The self-injury, the OTC drug abuse, the starvation. You’re worth so much more than this. You’re a strong and beautiful young woman, and if you stop letting yourself believe it, you’ll be that greasy, scarred, weak mess again. And you do not want that. Remember that.
Love, Me
Dear God, I’m still here…
13 FebDear God,
I’m still here. I’m not sure what to do. I’m not sure what you want or expect of me. I’m still hurt, and I’m still weary. Is this what my life is suppose to be? Please Lord, before I die, if it’s not too much to ask, I want to know what it is to be loved.
It’s me Christine.
Dear Boyfriend, you make me feel guilty…
12 FebDear boyfriend,
Why do you do this to me? You’re sweet and innocent, and getting mad at you makes me feel guilty. But when you put me last, break a promise for yet another game of Call Of Duty, and ignore MY feelings, I can’t help but stare at you with disappointment in my eyes along with tears that my momma told me I should never shed on a silly boy. But you’re no silly boy because for the first time in my life I felt butterflies when I said I loved you. But you don’t see my hurt and how you’re the cause. Notice me.
Your girlfriend
Dear Santa, I wrote to you before…
9 FebDear Santa,
I wrote to you before Christmas. Thank you for giving me what I wanted. My little girl is here in my arms and is the most beautiful and precious thing I have ever known.
Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
I believe.
Love from The New Mummy xx
Dear Boy, I don’t want to be a cliché…
8 FebDear boy,
It’s the little things you do that make me smile.
The way you looked at me when you told me I look great. The silly things you said when you tried to teach me how to do the limbo. The expression on your face when you tried to imitate my backbend and it just didn’t work. The enthusiasm in your voice when told me to do a trust fall, and I almost stepped back because I was afraid I would end up on the floor, and you somehow caught me anyway. The total lack of self-consciousness when you spontaneously start dancing to ridiculous songs. Your wild laugh. The way you watch me when I talk, like you’re trying to figure out a puzzle. Your curiosity when you wanted to know my story. How you tell me your story when no one else is around, because you trust me with it. Your smirk when you play inappropriate music in the Lair just to see if I’m listening. Your shock at my naiveté when sexual references are made in my presence. Your unwillingness to explain aforementioned sexual references to me. The fact that you’re a senior and I’m a freshman and you still think it’s cool that our English teacher made an example of my essay to your class. Your gentle fingers in my hair when you insisted on “fixing” it for the interview, and later when you decided it needed to be braided. The exaggerated way you grabbed my hand and dragged me into the Lair that night, knowing I couldn’t face going home, claiming that you needed my help a “very important project” and it “absolutely couldn’t wait.” How you made me write my email down on the back of your hand, even after I hunted down a slip of paper.
I don’t want to be a teenage cliché. I want this to be different. It IS different, because it’s all in my head and it’s not going to go anywhere, there’s absolutely no way, I have more sense than to even think about it. But that doesn’t stop me from dreaming and remembering.
But knowing that all of these little things won’t add up to anything in the end? That’s what makes me cry.
Yours truly, girl who wishes for more
Dear Upper Malboro, Where did you go?
6 FebDear Upper Malboro,
Where did you go? You never said goodbye. Why? Why didn’t you tell me you didn’t have feelings for me? Why couldn’t you just be honest and tell me that you didn’t care? You just left and now 18 years later I still wonder how you felt about me; It’s embarrassing. Couldn’t you just tell me the truth, so I would know that it was all in my head and I could forget about you? Please help me forget.
From, Springfield
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