This was originally published September 26, 2014 in response to a WP daily prompt. It has been hidden (and forgotten) in the private blog vault for quite a while. Reading it again today brought back some interesting memories.
Dear Pond Scum,
Dear Pond Scum:
I want you to know that you were the worst thing to happen in my life, and that is saying something…
Do I just want to yell at him? I could do that for pages. Each offense categorized and in chronological order, from the first lie to … No. I have one opportunity for a letter. I want him to read it. If I just start off yelling he’ll throw it out and feel justified — again.
Ugh. I can’t bear to even write his name.
Well, at least I can still crack a joke. Ok, to hell with the salutation, I’ll start out explaining and being non-combative.
I was given the chance to write a letter to anyone in the world, and it is guaranteed to be delivered. I chose to write to you. Does that surprise you? It shouldn’t. There is so much that was never said, on both sides. There was so much unfinished business…
Sigh. No. That’s still not right. What do I want from this letter? First, he needs to read it. As much as I want to scream and yell, that won’t get him to read it. Then what? He reads it, and? I want answers.
Did you ever mean any of it? From the moment I arrived you pushed me away…
No that’s old business.
Did you ever mean any of it? From the moment I arrived you pushed me away… Do you realize how cruel you were when I came back? That I was lost and broken and you… you tormented me. What did I ever do to deserve that?
Did you ever mean any of it? From the moment I arrived you pushed me away… Do you realize how cruel you were when I came back? That I was lost and broken and you… you tormented me. What did I ever do to deserve that? Do you know that all you ever had to say was “I want you to stay”? Do you ever wonder what happened to me? Do you ever want me back?
I don’t want those answers. I don’t want to hear the truth and I wouldn’t believe lies. Or would I? I believed them for 10 years.
One thing is for sure, and has been for a long time — I don’t want him back. He was never the person he made himself out to be, to me or to himself. It was all a fiction, a fiction I probably suspected from the very start, but I wanted so much to believe.
Dearest person who never existed,
I still love you. You, not the Pretender, but you — the person I described as being the water to a dying plant. The hope you provided brought me back to life. I loved my confidante — who listened to my fears and understood and would never, in a million years, ever use those fears against me. You were the man who let me do the same for him. You, not the Pretender, were the one who said we were stronger together than separate, that we’d be together out of want not need. I love the person, who should have existed, who wanted to explore and share so many things but who also wanted a safe place to fall back to. Where ever we were together, that was our safe place.
I would have guarded us with a primal fierceness. If you existed, you would never have pushed me away.
I spent ten years with the Pretender and that was ten years I’ll never recover and ten years I could have spent looking for the Genuine You. I’m sorry.
The featured image is also a Throwback Thursday, taken many, many years ago in Second Life. I am the tiny bunny, of course.