1

December 31st, 2015

Dear Love,

I was so happy. You were the one thing in my life that just seemed to fit. You were what got me through the day- from getting up in the morning, to falling asleep with dreams of your face at night. You were my compass. It felt like my life was finally on track. I was able to get along at my shitty job. I was able to hope for a decent future. I was a month away from making the journey of a lifetime- a journey with you.

And now I am lost.

Yours,

Lost and Hopeless

2

January 12th, 2016

Dear Love,

I still don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I don’t know where I’m going without your guidance. I’m stumbling around in this mess of a life, trying to convince myself that my feelings aren’t real.

I wish to be numb. I’ve lost half of myself. I know I will never get it back from you. We all know that hearts don’t break evenly.

I’ve lost the half of myself that was full of light. You were the key that could unlock my bad moods. You brought out the me that I actually enjoy. Genuine, smiling, and happy me. I miss her.

I’ve lost my dreams and wishes. I know that it’s my own fault for planning and hoping, but I had never been happier in my life. Could you blame me for planning a marriage?

I know I’m supposed to start over again, and make new from scratch, but my soul is weak and old. I’m lonely even in a crowd of loved ones. There’s not enough of my soul left to do anything but pretend. I still lay there in my bed at night and think about what we could’ve been. What we were supposed to be. It eats me alive. All these wasted years.

I wish I knew what in her makes you happy. I wish I knew, so that way I could change myself. I know that we will never be together again. I’m not changing to try and make you happy again. You’ve already shown that even after I changed myself, you still wouldn’t love me. - My heart just made a sickening noise at those words. Oh well. Dust yourself off and continue this stupid and pointless letter to an idiot who will never read it. -

If I changed myself, then maybe someone else could withstand my horrible nature.

I’ve tried to drown the demons. And for 10 beautiful months, I had help, and the demons were gone. You were that help. There’s something in you, some ultraviolet light that keeps them at bay. I smiled genuinely every day.

I find myself asking what people like about me. Sometimes, I receive compliments that make me wonder why you couldn’t love me anymore. I guess it’s hard to see the light in someone when you’re being drowned by them. I guess I should apologize for smothering you.

I wish I knew what I have done wrong. I wasn’t depressed, and if I was, I never told you. Maybe it is you who didn’t tell me how you really felt. No, I know it is your fault. But my demons will hold me in their dark embrace, and I will convince myself that it is truly my fault.

I still cry while driving home from work. After all these months, I still have tears left. If only the warm and salty liquid could be used to rebuild a broken heart.

I’m still half-tempted to write you letters. It would be wasted paper, but at least I could say that I tried.

Broken and Yours,

Not Wanted

3

February 1st, 2016

Hello Love,

I find your name on my lips before I sleep.

I have awakened twice this week in a sweat-soaked panic, unable to breathe. Why is the pain still here? Why is the pain still this bad?

What I would give to just look in on your life, and to know that you are happy. I’m so sorry for everything that has happened. It feels as if things will never end with me. It is nearly a quarter of a year later, and I’m still in this endless cycle of distraught feelings.

I’ve become a robot. No person has meaning to me anymore. I feel bad for the people that love me. They don’t know that I’m such a mess inside. They don’t know this fight that I’m constantly losing.

I feel like I am losing time. Precious time that I will never get back. Sweet, sweet time that was supposed to be spent making memories with you. It’s spent working a job that has no meaning to me and spending time with a person who doesn’t know that I am still hurting.

The mornings seem to be the worst times for me. 5 AM, black skies, and a winding road. If I were to just close my tear-stained eyes for five seconds, I could miss a turn, and you would never have to worry about my existence again. You could be free of me.

Though you are free of me already.

I guess I should say, if I miss that breakneck turn, I would meet the bottom of the cliff.

Then I could be free of you.

I wish I could’ve fixed myself for you. I wish we could’ve been together. This time was supposed to last. Yet, here I am, alone in my bed crying, again.

I don’t even care anymore.

I don’t care that you cheated me. I don’t care that you lied and hid from me. I don’t care about it anymore.

My soul is lonely.

Tearfully numb,

Torn Apart

4

February 6, 2016

Love,

I sit here in my chair, at my desk, and look at my empty office. I only have this fancy job because my plans for my future with you fell through. I was forced to change a part of my life because I couldn’t handle things staying exactly the same without you. I couldn’t handle knowing that I’d work at that old place and live in the same tiny apartment . . . without you. So I changed those parts of my life.

Yet here I am, missing you more and more with every month that passes.

I have been sick since November. I am told that it is an infection in my lungs. If I am lucky, it will drown me. Slowly, but I would suffocate from the liquid gathering inside of me. That is all that I need.

Today, I found myself scrolling over your timeline, desperately searching for when everything fell apart. Though, I guess I was searching for hope. Why do I waste so much of my time with reading every single little word you place on the internet? None of those syllables are meant for my prying eyes. I wish I could just see that you are happy. A picture, a sentence, anything to prove to me that you are not hurting as much as I am.

I admitted to a close friend that I am still in love with you yesterday. I could not change what is inside of my heart. Her advice was to fake my feelings for the rest of my life. I had lost you, and lost myself. I would have to pretend with someone else. No matter how broken I am, I would have to continue on with another soul and pretend that I could love them as much as you. She had told me that if I pretended long enough, that I could convince myself that it was the truth. Though I’m not so sure. I have been pretending for years, and I still have not dulled in the slightest for you. I’m just kicking myself at this point.

I have become so lonely recently that I will tell any friend that spends any length of time with me that I love them, hoping they will stay my friend.

I’ve stopped wearing makeup, or doing my hair. I barely even do laundry anymore. There’s no point in attempting to look decent anymore when the only person that I cared for refuses my existence. Hopefully, soon I will cut these wretched locks off. I have no need for the long hair. It was for you. Sadly, I miss your curls. I never got to run my fingers through them again. I miss everything about you.

I wish that you still loved me.

Dreadfully yours,

Disaster

5

February 15, 2016

Dear Valentine,

I hope your Valentine’s Day went well. I was reminded that once again, I wouldn’t be spending V-day with the person that I love. Sure the roses were beautiful, but they mean nothing to my heart. Someone else had already taken my Valentine.

I woke up this morning to find your picture dead first at the top of my feed. Her arms were wrapped around you as she declared her love for you. I cannot read your face. Though, I hope you love her as much as she apparently loves you.

I say this, and yet I am in a relationship that I care nothing about. So hypocritical.

I hope your bond is strong with her. I thought ours was strong, until you threw it away. I guess that’s what second place is always like. You’re rooted for, but there’s always someone else loved more.

I honestly don’t know what I’d do if you married her. There would be no hope left for me any longer. But I’m not strong enough to end my life. I guess I would live in utter disgrace, drinking my life away more than I already do now.

Why can’t I heal? There’s something preventing this gaping wound in my chest from healing. What is it?

I wish dying from a broken heart would be possible. My end would’ve came long ago, when we first separated.

I wish I could go back and change my stupid teenage self. I should never have pushed you away the first time. I needed you more than anything, but you let me go.

I beg myself to let you go.

With tears,

A Broken Valentine

6

April 3, 2016

Dear Love,

My chest aches. The pain still echoes through my being.

I crave attention. Yet, it is never satisfied. I am never truly with whom my heart cries for.

My soul is shattered.

I don’t care about anyone anymore. I have no job, no money, no medicine, no friends, and no compassion for my relationship.

After all these months, I still wrack my brain, begging myself to come up with some reason why you wouldn’t want me.

The years will fly by, and I will grow bitter with every month that passes. I see you socialize and I wonder when it was that you changed. You were right when you had told me that you were no longer the same person. Sadly, my being wishes to know the new person you’ve become, no matter how bastardized.

For some ridiculous reason, my soul yearns to be unhappy with what I have.

I will never be complete.

Your missing piece,

Lost

7

April 26th, 2016

Dear Love,

I was haunted by another ghost of you last night. My dreams are wrought with need for you. Your face is crystallized in my memory.

I search the faces of strangers for you. I listen for the familiar quake of laughter, or the soft vibration of your sigh. I never hear it.

There’s still so much pain. I try to bottle it up, or deny that it is there, but I still feel it, scratching at my insides like a caged rat.

Even after all this time, you’re still all that I think about; all that I talk about.

I sometimes contemplate if you would be willing to donate your essence. It sounds horribly crazy, but at times, I do wish I could have something of you. What better than a living, breathing, heartbeat, one that has your eyes?

That is just a fantasy, as I could never even muster the courage to ask that of you, let alone even acknowledge you.

Your Dreamer,

Lonely

8

May 12th, 2016

Dear Love,

You still haunt my mind like hunger pains. I still dream of your love. I dream of our happiness.

I dream of what was supposed to be.

Sometimes I sit and let my mind wander on my long drives. I wonder if you even think of me anymore. I wonder if I am simply someone to fall back on whenever you feel lonely.

Sometimes I let myself believe that you truly mourn the loss of me, but have too much pride to quit what you started with her.

Most of the time, I believe that I was simply a placeholder.

You’ve impacted my life in the worst ways. You don’t even know it.

I don’t see any value in my face any longer. I paint it up for other people’s sake; to not hear “You look tired” for a millionth time.

I don’t care about living. I have absolutely nothing to live for. I am just here, with no purpose, no ties, and no means to an end.

I have no friends, because all I ever talk about is you. You or the pain inside the hollow of my chest where my soul used to be. They’re all tired of listening.

I have a relationship, based on the fact that he never left my house after I tried to kill myself when you left. It probably won’t last long. I don’t feel attachment anymore. I don’t feel “it”, you know? At least he keeps me from burning myself more. The scars are still struggling to fade.

My anxiety has overrun my system so much so, that I ask him everyday if he even likes me, or why he wants to be around me. He assures me that he does, but I don’t believe him. He’ll just leave me alone like you did. Like every one has ever done. He doesn’t hold much conversation, which kills me more than I thought it would. I thought that I’d be fine with the silence, but silence leaves me only to my thoughts. Thoughts . . . well . . . they lead me here.

I often wish that a freak accident would take me away. A semi driver, dozing off to sleep in the pouring rain on the 4am drive to Tulsa crosses the center median. He barely feels the scrape as the bulk of his truck forces into a small PT Cruiser. The driver is killed when the car is sandwiched between the concrete wall and the side of the truck bed.

Such a simple little thing. It’d be easy to be taken from this world. It would never happen. I am too safe of a driver for that to ever happen in anything other than icy weather.

Anyways, I miss you. I hope your life is well. You look happy in your pictures. I hope you make her happy, too.

Yours truly,

Bruised and Broken

9

September 16th, 2016

Dear Love,

I’ve tried to starve off writing to you. I thought that maybe if I didn’t write to you anymore, that maybe I could finally bury this pain.

I cannot.

A lot of good things continue to happen to me. I take them all for granted knowingly. All these blessings and I am still caught up on the loss of you.

I dream of you, and when I’m not dreaming of you, I am caught in melancholy melodies that remind me of the pain I now live with; the loss.

It still breaks me down, you know. I have no trust, and no esteem. My chest always aches with a weight that never seems to give.

I’d give everything to forget. Who would I have become if I had never met my soulmate?

Better, I’d like to believe.

Yours,

Empty

10

October 11th, 2016

Dear Love,

I’ve been in a slum. I don’t know why you’d care. Maybe I still write the stupid letters as a sort of closure to myself. An outcry to an ear that is deaf.

How long is hurt supposed to last? How long does it take to heal from this? A week? A month? Six? It’s been a year since I’ve last heard from you.

A year since you betrayed me. What am I supposed to do?

My feelings are such a mix; oil slicked water.

I hate you so much. You ruined me. You destroyed my life, my trust, my confidence.

But why do I still love you? Why do I ache for you? You fucking traitor.

I should despise you. I should set your name aflame and blow the ashes away.

And yet, all I’ve ever wanted was to share your beautiful last name and have a life with you.

I still think about what we could’ve- no, what we should’ve been.

Sometimes in the dark, I can pretend that his arms, and his breathing is yours. I drift off to sleep in a euphoric trance, only to be awakened by the nightmares of you destroying me over again.

I curse myself for letting you slide through my fingers. I should’ve made you suffer more. I should’ve held onto you, even after you chose her. But I couldn’t stand to know that I wasn’t your first choice. So I made it easy for you, and disappeared.

I still look for you in every truck I see. I don’t know why.

I don’t even know what I would do if I ran into you. I’d like to think that I would punch you right in your lying and manipulative mouth. But, I have a feeling that I would most likely clam up and hide. Hide and cry.

So again I ask, how long is this supposed to last?

I don’t know. Maybe I’m angry because this stupid song came on the radio and I cried the entire drive to work- which ruined my makeup.

“I hate you. I love you.

I hate that I want you.

You want her, you need her.

And I’ll never be her.”

- “Gnash”ing teeth

11

November 22, 2016

Fuck.

I’ve managed to push you to the back of my thoughts for a while again. Yet you’re always there. A lingering feeling when I wake up in the morning. A chill in my dreams.

I had a really great day today, not that it even mattered. I haven’t struggled with suicidal thoughts in a while due to proper medication and decent sleep. Today was filled with jokes, laughter, and chocolate cupcakes. I had such a great time at work that I didn’t leave until much later than my normal schedule.

I didn’t lose it until I was halfway home, on a dark stretch of highway. A rather upbeat song began playing while I was lost in my thoughts of the day. I was no longer in the car.

The words transported me through space and time, back to when I regretted nothing and was actually happy.

My breath caught in my throat and heat blazed through my stomach. I swear I could smell you. All I ever wanted was to see you smiling. And I remember that smile, the way your eyes shined in the corners. I could taste your scent in my mouth. I have no idea how to describe your essence, and I had buried the memory of it deep. It had come flooding back and burned my nose. All I ever wanted was to make you mine.

I remember my eyes becoming heavy, and how absolutely serene I had felt. I know that I love you. I remember your lips and tongue all down my neck and under my shirt. I could feel how steamy that old car of yours had become. I swear I had time-traveled back.

I reached for your shirt, desperate to change that prude decision I had made all those years ago . . . and my stomach rolled with regret as I gripped the leather steering wheel in my car.

That’s all it was. A memory. A stupid decision that has led to so many years of regret. I let you slip away due to cowardice.

You are indeed my favorite memory. No matter how hard it is to admit that you’re only a memory and no longer a future. You’re the best memory that ever happened to me.

Tears welled up in my eyes when I remembered running my fingers through your curls, the rush to secure clothing, and the beating of our hearts when the cop knocked on your window.

I lost it tonight. I lost every shred of strength I had. Now I am broken once again. And everyday, you’re in my head. So far deep, that I contemplated throwing everything I’ve worked for in the past year to waste. Just for you.

Fucked Up and Drinking Again,

Me

12

December 31, 2016-

January 3, 2017

Love,

It’s New Year’s Eve.

I am miserable, heart and soul, not that it matters.

I heard a song on the radio this week.

The lyrics were:

“You still make me nervous when you walk in the room

Them butterflies they come alive when I’m next to you

Over and over the only truth

Everything comes back to you

And I know that it’s wrong

That I can’t move on

But there’s something about you”

I can’t seem to escape those lyrics. My best friend seems to love the song, playing it over and over again. So I listen in silence.

It took me 3 nights to even get this letter worded after what I had read.

I read that you had married her.

Congratulations.

For months, I was terrified of what would happen when you did marry her. I thought that I might utterly lose everything and catastrophically end my life.

Yet, like a zombie, I manage to keep living day after day.

Nights are the hardest. Your face haunts my mind. Haven’t slept in months. Too tired to write. Too tired to paint my pain away.

I believe I’m beginning to fester with unreleased tension. Who knows, maybe I might actually melt down the way I predicted. Even the days grow hard to bear.

Sick of the Years and Tears,

Just Me.

13

March 6th, 2017

Dear Love,

I am alive. Still. It’s miraculous.

I had pushed you so far deep in my brain. So many repressed emotions...

My subconscious decided to remind me that you were still apart of me.

I awoke with a start, coughing and sputtering. Choking. I had flailed in my sleep, throwing bedding across the room. My face and throat were raw from crying and screaming all night.

I had dreamed of your face. Reminded of the utter panic your betrayal fills me with.

These night terrors happen frequently, monthly at the least. Festering anxieties most likely manifesting in the worst forms.

Writing still escapes me. I haven’t been able to write in years. I will probably never get that talent back. But I do paint. I capture dark and muddy images. They represent... My darkness and inner turmoil.

At least that’s going for me.

I still love you.

Yours,

Quietly Suffering

14

March 21st, 2017

Dear Love,

It’s me again.

Always just me.

I looked through our old pictures again, for the millionth time. I miss you so fucking much. I’m so lonely. I wish I could know how you are. I wish I could hear your voice.

I still think about you every day. How many years have we been apart? When will this void ever close? I think about you . . . and her. Why her? What is so special about her? I’m so jealous of her. Why? I can’t even fathom. It hurts so much. You’ve gone and married her and gotten your storybook perfect ending. I hope it’s everything you’ve ever wished for.

I can’t stop the tears.

Sincerely,

Broken

15

June 18th, 2017

Hello love,

It’s been a while. I’ve been denying myself time to write to you. I miss you so much.

Your smile haunts my mind. I dream of your arms holding me. I am so lonely. My heart yearns for yours. I think of you daily, accompanied by regretted decisions. I hate living without you.

I feel like I’ll never be complete again. 

Sorry to cut this letter short. I thought I could do this. But, I’m not strong enough to turn the pain in my chest into words again.

Silently carrying on,

Yours

16

September 14th, 2017

Love,

I don’t know how many years it will take for this pain to pass.

My palms still get sweaty when I think of looking you up. It’s so easy to fall in love with you. Why can’t I let go? It’s been years.

The years go by, and I still find myself waiting. I still find myself hurting.

I hope you are healthy and happy.

Forever yours,

Lonely

17

December 6th, 2018

Love,

I managed to wait a full year and three months before writing to you again. I hypothesized that writing these feelings were an addiction of sorts. However, my theory seems to be disproven. A year without logging my daily or weekly wonderings of you seemed to only strengthen my yearning for you. I think of you daily.

Again, I find myself searching for your face on the internet. Just to see your smile. I miss you. I miss the bond that we had shared. You were so good to me . . .

Your wedding pictures came out so beautifully. She really is a pretty woman, and I hope that you love her. I hope that you have found happiness. You deserve it in the end.

I am in neutral territory. Good happens, but is met with equally negative consequences. I’m treading water, and gasping for air emotionally. Exhausted from dreams of your face. My subconscious is always there to remind me of you. You’re inescapable- I dream of you at night, you’re always within “people you may know” recommendations, or I pass by where your parents lived. This town holds all of my memories of you. Often, I wish that I could erase them, and become a different person. Some nights, I drive out to our spot at the lake- a form of self-torture.

I miss you so fucking much.

I guess this is me now,

Pained

Bubbly and sweet,

A mouth that's upbeat.

Tiny bells,

My heart swells.

Suddenly tragic,

Oops schizophrenic.

They won't stop talking.

The voices are mocking.

Back to square one.

The voices are done.

And now we're back to bells.

I think about you constantly. Every day.

Some days, I wish I had the courage to cover my body in permanent art of the things I knew you loved; that I love, too.

I honestly cannot sing our song completely through without breaking down. Yet, I still sing to myself the same lines over and over.

“Please don’t take my sunshine away.”

There are days when I need you so much, but all that is left of you is in my head. Minus the one picture of us on the refrigerator. God, I miss you so much and writing this is beyond difficult. Because when it comes to you, I’m such a wreck.

There are so many things I wish I could ask you. So many things I wish I could tell you. It’s so hard to have to carry on a conversation with only the thought of you in my head.

And some days, I forget your face. It eats me alive. But your voice will never leave me. At least, I hope it will forever be stained in my mind.

Friday, I was asked what my plans for Mothers’ Day were.

“I’ll get her some flowers.” And the reply was “That will be so nice!”

I didn’t have the heart to tell her the hard truth. That I voyage to your headstone with a bundle of fresh purple flowers.

Fresh flowers because there is a beauty in knowing that they will wither away and become one with the dirt of the cemetery. I know you would think the cloth flowers would be tacky anyways. In purple because that was your favorite color.

I’m sorry that I can only afford to bring you flowers four times a year. It’s hard to see your name, cold and hard in the marble in front of me. Even harder to see the rest of our family buried there. Family that I never got to meet.

I’m sorry that I never asked what your favorite type of flower is. And now that you’re gone, I’ll never get to know. I believe it was roses, but I can’t be certain.

Wow I’m sorry that I really veered off track. This was supposed to be a happy letter to you, but I guess I got emotional. Anyways,

Happy Mothers’ Day to you Momma. I’ll see you again on Memorial Day.

I believe the most painful thing in the world would be loss.

There is something to be said about never knowing, but it is far greater to know what

n e v e r

w i l l

b e.

It’s the heart stopping, gut wrenching, panic stricken grief that will scar your soul.

Go back into your memories. Remember that day. Open your eyes and tell me exactly how you felt. Was it empty? Were you so distraught that you couldn’t speak for weeks? Was it even worse when someone told you not to grieve, that everything would be okay, that everything happens for a reason?

I know what has been, and I know that she will

n e v e r

g e t

t o

b e.

The light keeps me company. It distracts my mind from the shadows that dwell within me. Light is my shield against the hallucinations of the dark. Yet there are only so many hours of precious sun.

When the sun sinks below the horizon, the demons awaken. Insomnia creeps upon me, leaving my broken skull filled with nightmares.