Dear ******,
This isn't the first letter I've written to you. This isn't the first time I've had so many things to say that I needed to release it all just to keep on going. I have so many things I want to say to you. So many questions, so many angry rants, so many exhausted pleas. Today has been so difficult and I'm mad at myself for how often I wished I could see you today.
Part of me wishes I could celebrate my new project with you. For a time, you were the only person I trusted with my art. I want to show you what I've got in the works and tell you what I have planned and get your ideas because they always stunned me with their originality. And yet, for years I couldn't write a word because you stole the joy from it. You took it from me and it's taken so much time to get it back, to water the seeds, to coax the joy back out. I don't know if I'll ever trust anyone with that part of me again because of what you did to me. That's something I want to scream at you about. That's something that has been so difficult for me to forgive. That's something I don't know how to get over. Because you said that it was sacred to you the way it was to me and then you betrayed it...and me.
I want to forgive you and start fresh. I want to believe that you had such a good reason, that you've been trying so hard to get back to me and you have this spectacular apology planned. I want to believe the best in you. I want to believe in who I thought you were.
And then there's the stupid part of me that just wants to forget it all and hug you. I just want to call it the past and let you back in. But it's like a movie where I keep looking out the window, waiting for you to drive up and day after day I'm left disappointed.
Today I've gone through the full spectrum of my feelings towards you. I was mad at you this morning. I was afraid to see you this afternoon. Tonight I've wanted to ask you a thousand questions and then wanted you to tell me everything will be okay. If you had asked me back then, in that coffee shop where we would be today...I could've made a lot of guesses. The reality is not one of them though, and that is what hurts me more than the rest of this mess we've become.
Forever Conflicted,
M
