This is a personal letter to someone I am in love with but I am having some 'issues' with.1
Dear Kris, (whom we all know as Skitzo),2
There’s so much I wish I could tell you in person, but every time I move to speak, I become so speechless-the words just choke in my throat and die on my tongue, and I try to smile, but it’s so frustrating to feel so hopelessly caught up and lost at the same time. Not long ago, I avoided everything I’m wrapped up in now like the plague. I admit it. I hold my head up and admit it: I’m afraid to love. I’m afraid to be loved and love the person back. I’m terrified for anyone who would love me in return, because I can never understand why they would in the first place. I accept the love because it’s so wonderful to be cared about-but I don’t quite understand it.3
This letter will probably continue on into oblivion like my letters frequently do-all the while avoiding the original purpose or subject. I can’t help warning you against myself. If you don’t love me like I love you, I would say that you are smarter and wiser for it, and your heart would certainly remain untainted. I can’t help feeling that if you did love me back-how much I could never deserve it. It’s how I feel. It’s what I believe. I can’t tell you how amazed I am each time someone hugs me or holds me or kisses me. I can’t ever feel deserving-and perhaps that is my most frustrating personal flaw. I love so much to be loved, and crave it-but subconsciously, I feel as if another part of me is desperately pushing love away. Maybe I am frightened. I really can’t say, because I could never even understand myself.4
I’m probably going on and on about nothing-random feelings and thoughts that could never be understood by anyone-that could never mean anything, but at this point, I just can’t stop.5
And so it begins…6
On Saturday night, do you realize we spent nearly four hours holding each other close and sharing our confidences with one another? We told each other some of our deepest secrets-our fears, our ambitions, and confessions that had at that point-remained untold for years. At least I know that I did. I can do no other than believe everything you said wholeheartedly and trust you completely. If I can’t trust you, I beg of you to tell me, if you think that I can’t or shouldn’t-tell me. I know that I will anyway, which makes my whole request futile, because you are most likely the most honest and honorable person that I have ever known.7
You’ve never given me-or anyone else that I know of-reason to believe any less of you. In my heart, you just seem so damn perfect, which has never occurred before. I feel like such a fool-such an idiot to be throwing myself at you. I frequently disgust myself. I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry. I don’t know what is wrong with me. Please, just, slap me. I wish you would just swiftly slap me across the face and shake me and scream at me to wake up and just shut up. Maybe it would knock some common sense into me. I am normally so logical, and I seem to have suddenly lost my mind completely.8
In that one span of hours, in that one night, as you held me closely in the warmth of your arms, you made me feel so loved and so needed, that I swore I had never found anyone who had given me that gift before. You made my heart to leap, and my soul to crave your company. I felt as if I were the only person on the planet that you wanted, and it filled my eyes with tears-because that’s never happened before. No one has ever held me close and kissed my tears away and told me that I was wanted and needed like you did. Cynthia, she offers all her love, but for some reason, and I know this sounds horrible, but it was just not the same. How futile it is for me to compare you two. I love her, I do, and she loves me, but her heart is with someone else…a boy, and that’s a piece of her heart and her affection that I could never have. I want so badly to be loved, to know how it feels, not to be wanted merely physically, but for emotional and psychological reasons-because I mean something to a person. You made me feel that way. I know that if I were writing this by hand, it would be covered in the stains of tears that shouldn’t really be there, but instead they threaten the safety of my laptop. I am hopeless9
I should crumple this up and never give it to you. I should walk away quickly and allow time and distance and a busy life to separate myself from you-similar to before. I don’t know how I would go about doing it, but I would if it appeared to be the only solution to my madness or you requested it.10
I’ve always cherished your friendship; it’s always been exceedingly wonderful to be called your friend. I always liked you very much. I could never see a wrong in you. Your heart seemed to be the purest and I admired your personality, your character, honesty, strength, and that ‘light up everyone’s life’ smile that you have.11
Deep inside I always wished that I could make you smile like that, or could comfort you and offer my shoulder if ever that happiness were to fail or falter. I knew I didn’t deserve that privilege, but it didn’t prevent me from longing for it. Sounds so perfectly pathetic, I know, that I liked you so much for so long and was such an unbelievable coward. I still am. I still hide from everything, or try to run away, even when I don’t want to. I wish that I had the confidence that other girls have. I have ambition, true, and I have desires and dreams, but I lack confidence in myself as a human being, which is certainly no one’s fault but my own. 12
I don’t know why I am telling you all this. It makes no sense to me, so I have no clue why it would be anything except for useless, meaningless overly emotional blather. I’m so stupid. Forgive me.13
I can’t concentrate or sleep because I’m just too busy thinking about the mess I’ve put myself in-the hole that I dig deeper and deeper each time I open my mouth-especially when I thought before that I was making things better. I’ve only made things worse. I’m good at that, you know. I slammed my head on the shower wall last night-thinking I could abuse you out of my mind, but I only made myself more frustrated. I’m so ridiculously stupid, that I disgust myself.14
None of this is your fault, and I hope you don’t feel that way; again, it’s my own impossibility. I don’t regret anything that transpired between us, for if I said so, I would be lying miserably, and I’d be so terribly foolish to deny everything I feel. I hope in my heart that you regret nothing, but if you do, I’d like to know, rather than be kept in silence and left to my own devices to think about what you would be thinking or feeling, which is exhausting. I’d always rather know the truth-the entire truth-regardless of what it would mean. I don’t want to seem to you like I am making demands. I’m not. I don’t expect anything from you. I am just making a few more confessions, if you will.15
I just wanted you to know the entire truth. I request it, so I will also offer it. I can’t seem to say everything I want to say when I’m with you. As I said before, my words end up stuck on the tip of my tongue, and I can’t for the life of me say anything that I had meant to say in the first place, which may or may not be a good thing. I didn’t mean to cry like a simpering child on your shoulder and make you feel like you had to comfort me. That was so selfish of me, and I apologize. I never meant to make you feel uncomfortable, or not know what to say because I wouldn’t shut up. I never meant to assume anything that wasn’t true and put you in a tough spot. You don’t have to be there, because I’m giving you a way out. An opportunity to say everything I want, or don’t want to hear, because it doesn’t matter whether I want to hear it or not-it will do me good because it would be the truth, and that is what I need more than anything else. I’m not going to haunt you for the rest of my life, and I won’t let our friendship disappear, and I won’t cause any more problems, and I won’t assume things that aren’t there, and I won’t follow you around or stalk you or cause you more drama than you need. I’m not going to lie or cheat or hurt you, because then I could never live with myself. I don’t know how I do it now. Pistols are pretty-they used to be really tempting, but they aren’t so much now, and I hope I never try it again-and I hope you don’t either. I hope you never feel that lost or unloved. I would do anything to hold on to you-or to bring you back-but try not to be a hypocrite at the same time. We’re both lost, I guess, or maybe it’s just me. No matter. I promise I’ll never be a burden, because you don’t need that. I’ll go if you want me to, I’ll stay if you will it. All you have to do is speak. Tell me what to do, please. Otherwise, I stay, and then don’t know if I’m wanted or not. I want you to know that I care about you much more than I thought I did even before. Darryl confided in me, and you did as well, of your past feelings of hopelessness, and pain, and I wished that I could make it all go away- I realized how much it hurt me to know that you were hurting inside-that you were not well at one point, whether you are now or not. I realized also how much it would destroy me if something were to happen to you. It suddenly struck me how very precious you are to me, as a friend, and more if you would have it, but mostly as a friend, a confidante, and a companion. I probably love you more than you love me, which always seems to be the case with my luck, but I don’t care. That doesn’t matter.16
I know that I love you, and I don’t doubt it and I can’t. I know that I care about you, and I would die if you died. I know that I cherish every moment in your company, even if you never could. I know that those feelings won’t die, even if you don’t feel the same. It doesn’t matter anymore. At one point, I thought it did, but just because I have loved people and they never loved me, never kept me from loving them-and sometimes, my love changed them. Darryl for instance, has turned into one of the best friends I ever had. I remember when we hated each other, and then I thought of him as a friend, even when he acted as if he hated me. He was cruel, but he changed. He has changed so much. I really think that he was that good person all along; he just needed someone to love him. He needed someone to care, to listen, and to confide in. I don’t take credit for everything he’s become, but somehow I know I must have helped. When we became friends, it felt like I was the only one who cared, and I am so overjoyed for him that he has you as a friend as well. People need love, whether they love the person back or not, and that’s why I can’t just stop loving you. I could try, but I know I’d never succeed. It doesn’t really matter.17
I’ve been behaving like such a child lately. I feel like hanging my head in shame for acting this way and just crawling under the covers and hiding. I’ve treated many people wrongly lately, and I’m so sorry. I’ve made assumptions, and made confessions, and probably said more than I should have. I’m probably assuming things out of nowhere-problems and things that never existed in the first place. This little voice is telling me that I’ve been making it all up in my head because I wanted it so much. If that is the case, please let me know.18
I’ve gone too far. I’ve said too much, but it’s just too late for that. I think I might be making a horrible mistake. Perhaps I should have never said anything, but none of us can say for sure, and it’s just too late now to be making any regrets, because I really don’t believe in the word ‘regret’. 19
Know this, Mon amour:20
If you were a mistake-if everything I said to you and you said to me-if every kiss and every smile and every passionate embrace were a mistake-21
You were the best mistake I ever made…22
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Author notes
This is a personal piece written for someone i am in love with yet I am having some conflicts with psychologically and emotionally. It is a letter. I have yet to give it to him, but I will first chance I get.
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