Love Letter: Sincerly Your's

Reads: 498  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned

Submitted: August 18, 2010

A A A | A A A

Submitted: August 18, 2010



Dear Sir,

I hate you. I hate you so much. Everytime I look at you all I can feel is hate and betrayel. All I can do is narrow my eyes fury as you go about your day acting as if nothing happened. As if those three months never existed. As if you never loved me.

I must admit not all of me hates you. Infact a part of me feels quite sorry for you. Quite sorry that you gave up what, you admitted to your and my closest friends, was the best thing that ever happened to you. Yes, I'm sorry indeed that you felt the need to give up on me. You left me without rhyme or reason. You just abandoned me in my already fragile state, leaving me to wallow in my self pity and anguish. You stranded me in my own self loathing, turning your back on my screams and cries claiming you never heard them. I know, you know, we all know damn well that you heard every last plea. You heard every last beg as I called to you "Please, Babe, don't leave me! Oh God I love you so much, please don't leave me!" And yet you never looked back.

Of course you blaimed me when word got out. You held me responsible for the rempremanding and the pure disgust my friends and even some of your's gave you. But it wasn't my fault. It's not as if in my broken state I told them to come at you. I didn't tell them to do anything at all. I couldn't tell them to do anything at all. At that point I was much to numb with pain to bother with revenge or anything of the sort. I couldn't feel anything. I was just numb. And then the novacane wore off, and oh I felt it. I felt every last bit of spite and rage that tour through my body.

The reciept to the Canibal Corpse shirt I got you? Burned in my back yard. The song I wrote you? Torn to shreds. Every last playlist, love song, poem, comic, any thing involving you was burned, trashed or deleted in a vain attempt to purge you from my mind. But you were still there.

At night I dreamed about the magical moments we shared. Holding hands on the school bus, laying in each other's loving embrace, Halloween; Every last moment was still stuck in my brain. They were still stuck in the creases of my fast-paced mind. No matter how hard I tried to be rid of them, they stuck there like the disgusting flies of a glue trap. Unable to move or take flight. Reminding my mind of what my heart never wanted to forget. Oh God I never want to forget that at one point you, yes you, the nonchalant musician, had once loved me. Yes you loved me.

And dear God did I love you? I loved you with every last fiber of my being. I loved you to the point where I would take my life for you if it would bring you back. Even if it were just for my dying breaths. If I do recall in my manic behavior I even threatened to take my life. Yes, I infact held a knife to my wrist and told you that I was in the middle of doing the nasty deed. And what was your response to me? "Stop being so fucking over dramatic. It's just an easy break up" And that's what pushed me over the edge. That is what made me press the knife down onto my exposed vein and draw ugly dark lines of red that, quite fortunately, didn't kill me. But damn if I didn't try. It was an easy break up? For you my dear it might have been. And for me it would have been if you hadn't slept with me three nights before that dreaded Sunday.

It's amazing how you can change your opinion of me in just three days. That Thursday we laid together in your unkempt bed. We had just finished making love. And you looked in my eyes and you said it. You said those three words I loved to hear so much. "I love you" And when I looked in your crystal blue eyes, I knew that you meant it. You meant every word of it. You loved me more than anything. You never wanted to let me go. And yet that Sunday you did. You let me go.

I can't say it isn't easy to look at you these days. Because it is. It is easy to look at you. Accept when I look at you I don't feel the sick amount of adoration I had for you. No, instead I can stare at you and pity you. Because while I moved on to a brighter and better life, you're still stuck being the sad lonely creature you are since you left. Yes, I noticed the change. I noticed the spark in your eye fade into the dull shell of a boy yoo've become. You used to be so full of happiness, living every moment content with what you had. And yet you let a very important part of that happy life go. And along with the happiness your light faded into nothing. You faded into nothing but a burnt out delinquent with only a guitar and a pen and note pad to vent your feelings to. And I can't feel sorry for you. I just can not. And I'm ok with that.

Your's Truly,

© Copyright 2018 MiaJay. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:

More Memoir Short Stories