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Archives

Friday, July 25, 2008
An Open Letter to Someone :: JadedBeauty :: 2

So I’m living my life one strongly mixed Black Russian at a time.  Losing (or throwing away) old friends and making new ones. (You didn’t like most of them to begin with...) Falling for bad boys not unlike yourself and deftly pushing the nice men to the wayside.  I like my life.  I would like my life more if I were wealthy...or at least comfortable...I still hate Oklahoma and am plotting my escape daily.  Still stressing school, but anxiously awaiting the new semester.  If I happen to pass all classes in my crazy full time schedule, I will have earned my Associate’s in Hospitality and Gaming...Not quite sure what good that degree will do me, but HEY I’ll have a degree.  Marcellus is fine.  Still obnoxious.  Still in his awkward puppy phase.  Clayton is hanging in there.  He’s chock full of ferret steroids, so I’m pretty sure he could kick your ass. : )

I still miss you like crazy, but it doesn’t hurt so much these days...Maybe that’s because I see her and the things you are putting her through.  I feel bad for the little thing, but I’m not going to go as far as to say she doesn’t deserve half of it.  She’s still the same bitter, angry person that I met in October.  I got out easy, you let me off with only superficial wounds...Old battle scars that only cause pain when the weather is bad… We both know that you were being honorable, saving me from yourself...I thank you.  She says you have a new one...A young one...Barely over 21...I’m happy for you.  I just wish you were happy for yourself...I know the new one is a stepping stone to the next, and the next, and the next…

I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.  I’m sorry that by the time our twisted, shredded, broken paths crossed, you were too far gone.  She’s not like you...She’s not like me.  I am dark enough to see your light, but you are so dark that no amount of light could ever brighten the dark corridors of the space where one’s heart should be....She doesn’t know you.  I talk to her everyday, you know?  Comfort her.  Tell her you’ll be back and that you love her.  I try to explain the things you told me in our bed...The place where all eventual truths surfaced.  She doesn’t believe that I could know more about you than she does...She doesn’t understand you.  She sees you as a project...Like some beautiful sculpture that just so happens to be missing an arm...She doesn’t realize, attempts to fix you are causing more damages...She cannot fathom the distance that she has created betwixt the two of you, she’ll never think to blame it on herself. 

Again, I feel for the child.  She’s weak.  She’s allowed your family to manipulate her.  She’s lived her life one relationship after another.  She allowed you to tear apart her last marriage.  You didn’t support her goals and asked her to leave her own children to forge a life with you...And she did...No matter how fleeting the indiscretion, she did...I see all the things you told me...I see it now and I understand.

The man I fell in love with is so buried beneath this man you have become.  With each memory of the greatness that was us, there is an equally disgusting story threatening these images.  I love you for you.  I love you for the things that she’s never seen...The things they have never seen...I kissed away your tears in the middle of the night/she has never seen you cry.  I held your hand and stroked your forehead as I listened to the things that made you/she doesn’t know and doesn’t believe you are a man of substance.  I told her I wanted you to be happy with her, but again, we know that this isn’t feasible.  She needs you too much and you aren’t capable of carrying anyone.

I want to beg you to be kind to yourself, to let some of this pent up guilt and aggression go, but I know that will never happen.  That would require you to look at yourself and evaluate your behavior.  You can’t…


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