I don't know why I feel so strongly about you. You've done nothing to me. You misunderstood me, when I trusted you enough to confide in you, you turned it against me. But that was so long ago. Years now. Why do I care enough to hold a grudge that long?

I know you. I know more about you than you think. You want to be misunderstood, In a way that I could never. Maybe it's because you're predictable in your longing. You always have been. Your ego consumes everything about the way you see the world, how you refuse to see the way you taint it, in your own special way that's same as the last bully. You desire everyone to desire you, to want you, to adore you. But what have you done to deserve it? When you cry and whine for a statement someone made with a slight critique, do you hear the teeth grinding against themselves behind you? You're worse than the people you ran from years ago now. The people that led you to me and us. We took you in to show you love, the unconditional type. You took it. You overstayed your welcome.

Look me in the eyes when you talk to me. You will see nothing in them. They hold no sympathy for you, no remorse. I stopped seeing you as pathetic long ago. I hope that you matter so little to me that I can hide this hate from myself. I can already hide it from you.

Learn more about yourself and figure out how to be compassionate

Would you still love me if I was a worm?

Would you still love me if I couldn't hug you? Or provide for you? Or kiss you?

If I couldn't ask you how your day was, would you still tell me about it?

If the meaning you found in me was a memory, would you be sentimental enough to hold on to me?

Or would I go in the goodwill pile, in a trash bag, with a shirt from summer camp all those years ago?

Kafka wrote of a man becoming a bug and all his family slowly hiding him and shutting him away.

Until the bug in question crawled out the window, into the woods.

No middle ground met, no attempts of new care made, no humanity for the formerly human. No unconditional love, The kind we all promise to each other.

I asked you this. "Would you still love me if I was a worm?" over text one night.

You sent me back a picture of a jar with dirt and sticks in it.

I love you.

I feel like I'm in my own little world.

The trash needs to be taken out, groceries need to be bought, hair needs to be brushed.

But here we both are.

I sit here listing to a five hour loop of the weather channel from the 90's because I like the music. You are asleep in your bed states away, on the phone with me.

Your snores are the best part of the bridge. You woke up a little because I forgot to mute myself while I was eating breakfast and you called out to me in you dream state. I write about you a lot.

I write about you less than I want to.

I haven't shown you any of it yet.

I tell you about them and never send you links to here and you seem to understand.

I write you notes and send them to you on postcards and you send me the picture of the New Orleans postcard via your informed delivery. I put one of my favorite stamps on it for you.

You used to live there. You wanna take me there again. I want to go.

I staked you Instagram before we were dating for real. The day I almost said I love you over the phone, to see where you had been there.

I found the places you went while you lived there and my stomach filled up with butterflies when I passed them.

My mom has a strange sixth sense for who I like and who I don't like. She asked me who I was texting the entire time.

It was you. You were getting pictures of everything. My clothes and outfits, my drinks, pictures of people that just said "You know this guy???"

You talked about every one of them with me.

I'm not much of a hugger, when I got off my plane, you hugged me so tight and I felt so safe I almost melted into your arms.

did not know there's an introduction page my bad.

Hi my names Iggloo I like to write stories.

usually I write a lot of fiction but for some reason I'm having a lot of fun with making little I and you stories about my love life. Some of its true! Some of it is fake! Some is embellished for the sake of the story! This is really helping me get a better grasp on my emotions and I like seeing that people read the stuff I make so that's cool. pretty sure the reason I never got into journals is because there was no one to read it.

Loving the anonymous aspect of the whole thing. I kinda use this name for every little internet thing I do so I assume I'll change it at some point.

Anyways! Hope y'all like my stuff!

Love,

Me!

I made you dinner while we were seeing each other. I flew in for the weekend, made my whole work schedule around the trip.

I fell violently, violently, violently in love with you on my plane home.

You had been in love with me the whole time.

I had shown you parts of me that I wouldn't show anyone else, parts that I was ashamed of, parts that I wanted to change for you. I wasn't ready to commit to that change yet. Besides, you loved those parts of me.

It turned from love into a gross fetishization.

You seeing me for something else.

Sort of like flanderization but for me being unable to love you back.

I knew we were never going to be forever. I don't know why. Maybe you were right about apart of me.

I made you dinner again when I came back down to your state two weeks later.

We had a great time. Your mom said we were cute together. I loathed the way you talked about my feelings with you, how little you think I cared. How much of a turn on it was for you.

The walls came up fast. I checked out. I didn't see you as a partner anymore. You saw yourself as a chewtoy and gave me permission to rip all the fluff out of you. I was hesitant.

I visited you again, we went out to dinner and split the check. I called my mom and said I felt bad for treating you this way, said I had been an asshole the whole visit.

I told you I didn't want anymore from you over the phone. 500 miles away. I ate dinner alone. You excused yourself for 34 minutes and called me back while I was doing the dishes. I could hear the tears in your voice. You heard the parts of me that you so craved tell you all my tactile decisions in why this wasn't working out. About how it had to stop.

You came up with a friend. A while later. I took us all out to dinner. You wanted the person you fell in love with, the person that broke your heart, the person who scattered you all over the floor and didn't clean up after they made the mess. I was more confused than I ever could of been. You wanted me so bad it scared me. You slept in my bed, you tried to kiss me. I moved to the living room, slept in the chair, and woke up before your friend on the couch did and made us all breakfast.

I dropped you both off at the airport and said my goodbyes.

I wrote your letter.

After you told me your address to me over the group call.

I wasn't asking for yours. I was asking for someone else's. I told you I didn't have any more of my favorite post cards. I have six of them left. The address you gave me wasn't your own. It was your mom's. You don't get mail at your place. I asked why. You couldn't give me a straight answer. I didn't write a return address. It either gets there or it doesn't. I told you about my day and asked you to have fun with yours.

Sincerely,

Ohhh I wanna kiss kiss kiss you

I wanna hold you so tight

Hes mine Hes mine hes mine

I love the way we talk about nothing

I love the way he says crazy things to me I love the way I say crazy things to him

I wanna squeeze him so bad

I love when you come over and sleep because you work nights and I work days

I love waking you up to feed you because I love taking care of you

I love you I love you Iloveyou Iloveyou Ilove you

I feel so violently in love with you, like when you see a baby and want to eat it i wanna wrap you up and eat you and pinch your butt and touch you and feel youa nd I'm never close enough and you make me go crazy and I love you

You fly in once a month for the weekend and it makes me so happy every time. I cried the first time I picked you up at the airport I'm crying as I write this right now.

You're currently wrapped up in my blankets. Its snowing outside. My toes are cold. You told me to find somewhere where I can post my writing because I love it and here I am writing about how much I love you.

Once I post this, I am going to go to my bed, with my love in it, and I am going to put my cold toes on his legs. He will say "Oh, you're so cold" and I will deny it, and he will let me keep my freezing cold toes on him until he warms them up and then we will both go back to sleep, even though its 3 in the afternoon.

I sat across from her. She doesn't see me, she wont ever again. How ironic, I thought to myself, last week I was reading "The Stranger" with my nose turned up in the air, hating the main character for not feeling anything about the death of his own mother.

But here I was, front row of the overly bright funeral home, its off colored, wanting to look organic wood wrapped me and the people I was surrounded by in an embrace akin to a stranger who had no real business knowing your thoughts comforting you on your emotions.

I was recommended the book by a coworker, not a friend but a coworker. She said she didn't understand why I was so high strung, said none of it matters and I should take joy in the simple things in life. I read the whole thing in a day and a half, out of a sick fascination and disdain for a man so unmoved by the world around him.

Yet here I was.

Immobile in my own emotions

Empty

Alone.

Maybe I missed the chapter where he found happiness, because I sit here, wondering where I could find the happiness in this

I have an envelope that's addressed to you

Sitting on my desk.

I don't have a letter that matches it.

I found your love letter you wrote to me when I first moved away, I decided not to throw it out. I don't know why.

Maybe its because I want to cherish it, like all the other poets do.

I could lie to you and tell you its somewhere with all my other precious memories, but its not. Its in between the pages of my German homework, the class I dropped out of three years ago.

The letter to you will stay blank, and I will go on, and one day, I can smile that warm smile you fell in love with, the one that says we have something special, and I can tell you that I still have yours.