Independence Day

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

It's a letter for someone.

Submitted: May 23, 2018

A A A | A A A

Submitted: May 23, 2018



Dear You,

Yeah. You get “you”. Not “pirate”. Not “Dear”. Just, “you.” Before you get upset about that, take a second to breathe. You know this is about you, so choosing what I wish to call you via letter shouldn’t upset you.  

So, here’s the thing, you’re getting one of these letters because I know that talking to you in person would be an endless cycle that would never ever. I’m ending that cycle. So, you get this letter.

You always, always asked what I wanted, what would make me happy. Here’s the thing, as you should know, by now (hopefully), there’s not one set “me”.  If you’d paid attention, you would know that. Everyone around you knows that but, somehow, you can’t seem to understand that. You can make one part of “me” happy, but you have many other parts to deal with. This doesn’t have to do with triggers or things like that. It has to do with different personalities and personas.  You get whatever personality I decide to give you and show you. It shifts on a dime, with situations, with people, etc. Oddly enough, your roommate as seen a more real, “me” than you have. The real me is coming out in this letter, a little bit. You won’t like it the longer you read.

Moving on. The thing that annoys me the most about you is that you are not layered. I’m calling you out on it. You’re, frankly, very boring. You are nice and that’s it. The most annoyed I have ever seen you is when you’re telling me I, supposedly, dismiss your feelings. The first time, in months, I have seen that. That’s as deep as you have gotten. Basically, you’re as deep as a kiddy pool. You can call me shallow, but I’m going to say it’s because you don’t have experience… In anything. Not in interacting in public school with other kids, so you miss social queues. Not in dating, really. You got engaged too early, it failed, and now take it out on others. There’s a lot of things you’re not experienced on that build character. Being homeschooled until you’re a freshman in college means you missed out on a lot of those things that develop character until you left your house. Before you comment about how you got bullied by your brothers, that’s what siblings do. Eventually, y’all will be okay. Trust me on this one.

Anyway, continuing this point. You want to know why your roommates and I get along so well? Because we have things actually in common! I know, what a concept. I’m shocked too. We have similar experiences, similar personalities, similar disorders, likes and dislikes, you get the picture. We are friends because we all click on a deeper level than liking the same music, wanting tea time, and liking hugs.  They are closer than you and I are, at this point. Who cares if some of the things we talk about are triggers? It’s honestly life. Everyone has triggers from different experiences in their life. Just so you know, your breathing could be a trigger for me and you wouldn’t even know it.  

Next. You are quite the hypocrite, and I’m over it. You’re out here trying to tell your friends how they have to change, how they have a connection so they have to date, how they should better themselves. However, you won’t make a step to ever change yourself. Ever. You only eat cheese and bread, yet complain that you’re not physically fit. You call me a child, but yet you’re actually quite childish in more ways than one. You think that my teeth are white, but you won’t see a dentist. You want two people who have nothing in common to date but won’t date someone you actually clicked with.  You said you had until the show opened to change your eating habits, but everyone around you knows you won’t actually do it.  The list goes on. Should I go on? I can. I won’t. Maybe a different time. Anyway, you tell us all the same story about how you’re, “going to change,” but you’re not actually. After a certain point, people stop babying you and start agreeing with what you’re saying. I reached that point about three weeks ago. I know others around you have also reached that point. So, you’ll start to hear, “Yes you are,” when you complain about how you’re fat. You get the picture from that one example. People are patient and push you because they want to help you because they—heaven forbid—care about you; but, if you’re not going to try, then why should we? Exactly.  You had the nerve to call me a ”child” and “stubborn”. I need you to not ever do that again unless you want to get slapped in the face. Look at your life, look at your choices and tell me who is really the “child” and who really is “stubborn.” Here’s a hint, it isn’t me.

Going on. I am nothing like your ex, Shannon. When I found out that was your complaint about me, and the reason why I almost bashed my head in with a hammer. According to my dear friend, she needed to be coddled, husband, babied, etc. Repeat after me, I do not need any of those things. Five years ago, when I was a freshman in college, maybe. Even then, I wouldn’t have, because that was the year I decided that I was tired of being the victim in my own story. So, I signed myself up for a counselor and psychologist, I changed my diet, I changed my friends, I changed my major, I pushed myself to get better and succeed. Did I ever say I was perfect? Fuck no. With medication comes ups and downs, with changing friends comes loneliness, with changing diet comes insecurity, with changing major comes uncertainty about the future, with anxiety comes constant doubt, with depression comes never wanting to do anything, with MPD comes randomly shutting people out because one person got offended by something said, with OCD comes annoying precision through repetition, with OPD comes things needing to be the same to some length, with suicidal thoughts and tendencies comes trying to end your life constantly or thinking about it constantly, with self-harm thoughts and tendencies comes hurting myself in order not to feel any pain elsewhere. You get the picture. The fact that you think that someone who is one of the most-wanted Costume Designers in our state, has a career, goes to conferences as an invited guest, has a personal website, and has fixed themselves for the better has to be coddled and looked after is laughable. It’s laughable. I’m laughing, you just can’t hear it, a) because you’re reading this letter through your phone or your computer and b) because I’m not actually laughing.

As far as dating Is concerned, here’s the thing. I need someone with me, who will build me and be there by my side, or not at all. You're not what I need. I don't need my hand held and told I'll be okay, etc. Most days, despite what my head tells me, I know I will be okay and that life goes on. I've overcome many worse things. Going back to dating and wanting someone by my side, I’m always moving forward. I do not have time to be with someone who pouts at the littlest things and throws themselves a pity party for weeks on end after there’s a little bump in the road and complains something is hard. You get 24 hours to throw yourself a pity party, then you get up and try again. I have no patience to coddle people. Grow up. You're 25. The world doesn’t revolve around you, and it’s not going to wait for you to figure that out.

At this point, you get the picture. I’m over this and I’m over you. Now, you might ask when I started to feel this way. Surprisingly, it was after we ended date number four. Once I take a step back, I start to realize things. Notice things. Being an outsider your whole life will do that to you. The fog of having a crush on you faded and then reality set in – well, more like hit like me a bus. At this point, is when people see why my dating history is very minimal because once the fog fades away it’s not coming back. I don’t have time to waste on picking up someone else’s pieces who aren’t in any rush to pick up their own in the first place.  I know, I’m 23, I have all the time in the world, da da da. I’ve heard it all before. However, regardless, no one has time to fix others when they haven’t made an attempt to fix themselves, first.

I apologize that this letter is harsh. However, someone had to say it. If it hurts you, honestly, that’s okay. The truth hurts.

I hope you had fun reading this. I know, I’m a bitch. Once again, I never said I was nice. You just assumed I was. Your mistake, not mine.

So, I ask again: do you hate me yet?

This is my Independence Day. 

Yours truly,


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