Dear Sanity,
How many times are you going to threaten to leave before you actually walk out that door? The first time you threatened me was right out of high school. I realized I didn’t have or want a purpose in life and I wanted to give up and die. Then the first girl came along and I loved her just enough to realize what had been missing to keep me sane, but she didn’t last long and you started packing your bags again. Then just a few months later I found her. She was the one, my purpose. She was everything, so you started unpacking again. However it didn’t take you long to start looking for the door again did it? You polluted my mind with thoughts of jealousy and fear. You made it consume me and my relationship. Now she is gone as well and you have one foot out of the door. You knew that without her there would be nothing left for me to hold on to and you would be able to leave me broken and in pain. Every step you take from the door I slip farther and farther into the dark. I don’t know how much longer I can stand the constant thoughts of her and the emptiness you make me feel inside. I wish you would come back and bring her with you.
Sincerely,
The insane.
To whom it may concern,
Recently, a large amount of threats where issued towards a girl, who didn’t deserve it. The nature of these threats planted a seed in me that frequents my nightmares. So here is the other side of the story that no one asked about. I’m going to call her Z for the sake of keeping the story somewhat coherent.
Z was born under less then desirable circumstances. Tossed around between family members that would get tired of having her, never allowed to call a single place a home. Before I get too distracted, the main point of her anger and jealousy stems from her mother. Z didn’t see her mother often. She loved Z and the rest of her children very much, but her priorities weren’t in the best order.” When she was nine her mothers addictions caught up with her and she overdosed. No one told Z her mother died till weeks later. She wasn’t allowed to cry or mourn her death because her family wouldn’t allow it. So yes, Z was jealous. She was angry that she was being put down for not mourning someone she didn’t know. And, that a lot of these people that called Z insensitive or whatever, didn’t even know the deceased personally either.
I had to get this off my chest. I’m sorry Z. Its not my business. But, I love you, and as my sister, I feel your side needed to be out there. Maybe one person will read this, and actually think about what happened.
Abridged and Signed,
Dear Anusara,
I don’t know much about you or your teachings. I have attended a couple classes over the years, but that is the limit of my exposure. I have, however, read much about the whirlwind surrounding your community right now.
I thank you.
In some twisted, bizarre coincidence, the tumultuous happenings in the world of Anusara yoga seem to coincide with some of the same recent feelings of loss in my life. The writings of your various teachers and how they are dealing with the different issues has been extraordinarily therapeutic for me. It is interesting how Anusara has had this therapeutic effect on my life without my even attending a class or practicing the actual physical act of yoga.
Regardless, you have helped me tremendously in looking inward and reflecting.
With the Highest regard,
an indirect student
Dear T.
I know that I ruined everything. I know that my indecisiveness about loving you is what caused our relationship to ultimately fall apart. After two years of you always being there for me, after putting a ring on my finger, now it is gone. Now you are gone. At least, you say you are.
Yet you still let me bring you cakes, letters and things you like. Yet I am still here, trying every day as hard as I can to convince you to take me back. This has been going on for a few months now.
You told me that you don’t know if you love me anymore.
I figure if you didn’t love me anymore, you wouldn’t let me stay at your house, bawling at your kitchen table for hours.
I will never, ever stop trying. Unless, of course, you threaten to call the police.
I love you, more than anything in the world. That, I am sure of.
You know the saying, ‘You don’t really know what you’ve got until it’s gone’?
Well, now I know.
And all I want is another chance to make this right, because you were, and continue to be, the most important person in the world.
If you could give me that, I would very much appreciate it. Because this constant shallow breathing and breaking down at random times during the day is really not working for me anymore.
I have hope and I have faith. I wish that you did, too.
Love,
Danielle
Dear Sidewalk Walkers, Tourists, and Day Shoppers,
I wish there was a way to hold your head touching mine, so you could see who I really am, and how embarassing it feels to have this as my only choice.
Im not who you think I am.
I dont have a drug problem.
I dont have mental issues.
Im not here by choice, only people who’ve never lived like this would think somebody would be here by choice.
Life wasnt always this way. I lost everything, I lost things that you wouldnt even think could be lost.
The first night I walked downtown slowly. I was cold and I didnt know where to go.
I told myself to focus, not to panic, life happens in chapters and this one was just starting, but it would end too.
The youth shelters told me I was too old to come in. The women’s shelters were past capacity, they said.
So I come here to the same spot every afternoon. In the mornings i’m at the unemployment office looking for a needle in a haystack.
I try to make some money for food. It’s rare, but sometimes I make enough for a cheap hotel and I pretend to be somebody else for a night.
It’s a struggle that involves sacrifices, but all the same I try to keep my phone paid for, waiting for that interview that doesn’t seem to be coming.
Yesterday a lady bought me a winter coat and some fancy mittens and they were so warm, it was so kind, I started to cry so much I had to leave. I hope to run into her again so that I can say how well I slept that night.
Kindness is so rare. Mostly I feel invisible.
Sometimes I ask people what the time is and they shoo me away like a fly and answer “I dont have any change.” If I had a dollar for every time thats happend, I could buy a condo.
Im trying. Im trying so much.
When you walk by me, and you snear and say mean things and laugh with your friends,
I dont break. Theres nothing left to break. I was long past broken before I got here, but it makes me feel so lonely.
While I sit with a dirty cup in my hand, trying to dodge being hit with your shopping bags, I catch ends and middle bits of all your conversations.
I want to tell you all, “You have no idea.”
I want to ask you all why you dont see how lucky you are, how good your life really is, how easy you really have it.
I want to ask why you dont cherish your lives.
I want to tell you how quickly it can all dissapear.
I wish you could see what I see, even if only just for a moment.
Please be kind to your city’s homeless. Everybody has a story and you dont know theirs, but more than likely its one filled with horrors and bad luck and regretful mistakes that would tear you apart. We are still alive, and I feel that is an accomplishment in itself. We should be respected even if only for our perserverance. Spare what change you can, every little bit helps. Smile at us. Give us a compliment, offer us some courage and hope.
What if it were you? Someday it very well could be.
Sincerely,
The girl on the corner.
