A Letter for You

I'm not good at talking but I can write so I thought I would give it a go.

These last few weeks have been difficult.

 

Ever since I opened that box, things haven’t been the same. I thought we would be okay, but things aren’t. And I don’t know what I can do.

 

I’m scared of what I have done. I have opened that box of all my baggage, and it’s shattered the rose-colored bubble we have been living in. You tell me that I need to deal with the contents of that box, but do you realise how hypocritical you are being?

 

You tell me to deal with my own s**t, but you continue to ignore your own. You tell me that you aren’t going to leave me, that you want me to open up so that you can prove it. I’ve told you that talking to people and expressing my past and feelings is the most difficult thing for me. You’re trying to be understanding. I get that.

 

But I don’t get one thing. You’re telling me to do all this so our relationship can move forward, and you’re saying that you are an open book and telling me all the things that go through your brain. But you’re lying.

 

You aren’t dealing with your s**t. You’re smoking weed to get away from it all, avoiding it, and in your mind, because you aren’t thinking about it, you don’t have to talk about it with me. But you tell me that you are talking to me about everything. I think you’ve forgotten that actions speak louder than words.

 

And I know this is all my fault because the last time we saw each other, I wasn’t in the best frame of mind. Don’t get me wrong, I was more than happy to see you, but I wasn’t mentally strong. And when that happens, I can normally control it and fake a happy face. I can’t do that with you.

 

You see, that is me trying to let you in. Showing you that I am not in a good place, and telling you that I’m just not ready to talk about it, but when I am, you’ll be the first one to know. I’m terrified to tell you everything that goes on in my head, and you promising to never leave me actually makes it worse. It makes me build up this hope that even though I am so messed up, there might still be a future for me.

 

Comfort lies in your arms, and you tell me that it’s okay. I can wait till I’m ready. But I can see it in your eyes, you just want me to hurry up and tell you so that we can move past this stage. The longer we stay here, the more I damage us, and the more likely it is that you will have to deal with your s**t.

 

But I’m so f*****g terrified. You don’t know what goes on in my head. And you have your own problems, but it’s different. You say you love me. How are you going to feel when I tell you that I sometimes want to kill myself? How much is it going to hurt when I tell you that I hate myself? That I can’t see anything good about myself?

 

And how much are you going to understand when I tell you that although I know that I love you, I don’t actually know what that word means. I don’t what know what love means. I know I want to spend the rest of my life with you, but I am unsure as to what love actually means.

 

I’ve told you about my childhood. I was an inconvenience to my family, ruining holidays by showing my emotion and not having them line up with everyone else’s. I wasn’t happy when they were, and I was happy when they were tired and then I just got on their nerves. I’ve told you about the disease I’ve battled since I was a little girl, and how it was a nuisance to my family. My father has never believed me.

 

I’ve lived in the shadow of my older brother for as long as I can remember. My suicidal yet perfect older brother. My mother tried to deal with her own depression as well as his, but it didn’t work so well. She fell down and retreated to her bedroom. My father tried his best, but he could only deal with one sick child.

 

So, I told myself that I didn’t need anybody. I told myself that they do love me, and it’s just the wrong time. Attention and love mean different things. They don’t actually need to know me to love me, they just need me to fulfil the image and ideals they set for me, and that’s okay. They still love me.

 

So, while I tell you that I love you, I don’t know what it means. But I can’t tell you this because it will just break your heart. It will crush you, and you’ll just continue to hide those feelings from me, because that’s what you do. Our relationship is a one-way street here.

 

Your words are spoken, and you spend money but when it comes to it, your retreating back to your room just like my mother did when I was a girl. I suppose I should be used to it by now, after all, that’s what love is. Conditional.

 

I want to let you in, but I don’t know how to do that if our relationship relies on me being the only one doing this. Why should I be letting you in, giving you the ability to absolutely break me into pieces and destroy everything I have, if you’re letting yourself sit behind a think tempered glass wall?

 

Why am I the only one compromising?

 

I’m trying to let you in baby, I’m trying to learn everything about love so that I can be the best partner you’ll ever need. I’m trying to match my actions to my words… I’m trying so god damn f*****g hard. And all you do is keep spitting out those words, those words you think I want to hear.

 

I’d rather hear the truth. What actually goes on when you’re not smoking your feelings away. The feelings you feel but don’t know how to talk about. I want that.

 

I’m sick of this honeymoon phase where we are content making each other happy on the surface. Baby, my mind is begging for so much more. I want to know you. I want to really know you. I know what it is like to make myself into something I think somebody wants, that’s not where I want you to be.

 

I don’t want anything other than the real you. Sure, maybe that is a little scary, and I’m f*****g terrified to show you that side of me, but this needs to be a two-way street. Let’s walk down it together. Hand in hand. Each step taken with each other.

 

Your opinion and feeling are valid. They don’t have to align perfectly with mine, heck they could be in another universe, but I’d rather know them than you keep painting them a different color. I want to know you.

 

I love you. Not this image you’re trying to show me. You. I can see you for who you really are, that’s my gift. I see past the bullshit because I know exactly how to craft that image. I know the kind of person you are, and that’s the man I fell in love with.

 

Come meet me by the waters edge, lets leave our façade’s behind, and talk things through. Come with me to the next level of a relationship, love each other for our faults and fears as well as all the pretty things everyone can see. Let’s be in a real relationship.

 

Let’s learn the real meaning of love.  

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

Powerful and honest words shared.
"Come meet me by the waters edge, lets leave our façade’s behind, and talk things through. Come with me to the next level of a relationship, love each other for our faults and fears as well as all the pretty things everyone can see. Let’s be in a real relationship."
I liked the above lines but sometime. The person, we love. Love the smoke and do not know what love is. Love should be easy, making your number two happy. Should be our goal. Thank you Katey for sharing the letter.
Coyote

[Katey Grace]

Thank you Coyote for your honest review. You're right, sometimes we don't know what love is. Sometimes we are fooled and then when we realise it isn't real, we can't quite convince ourselves to let go and find what we deserve.

[Coyote Poetry]

You are welcome dear Katey.

[WillaDanvers]

Well written and love the angst portrayed. If this is based on true life, you should probably talk to your partner without the bullshit. Hope things work out!

[Katey Grace]

Thank you Willa. I will try to do that sometime.