Dear Meat

To My Charming Prince,

Tue, 29 May 2012 14:13:51 -0400

I don’t really have anyone to talk to about what’s been going on lately and it sucks. I feel like I should be able to tell you about all of this, but I can’t, it just makes you upset everytime I talk to you about it. And that’s reasonable since you obviously care and I’m obviously killing myself. I’m not exactly sure what made me spiral out of control again, and why this time it was so bad, but I’m scared because I know it’s getting worse. It’s consuming me again and I don’t know how to stop it. I’m counting and restricting again. I’m sure I’ll start binging on excersize soon. It’s scary to be constantly pulled back into this painful cycle no matter how hard I try to get better. I don’t want to be this way. I didn’t ask to have this issue. I don’t enjoy it. I’m terrified that I’m losing sight of myself. I feel like I’m drowning. I have no friends. I pushed them away. My own family is in denial that I have a problem, I dont have the courage to even tell you because it will stress you out and now, with your new job, is not the time. It sucks. I need help for once and there’s nobody here for me. Not because they don’t want to be, but because I don’t let them. I don’t know why it’s so damn hard for me to just ask for help, to admit that there’s a problem. I guess it just makes me upset when I realize I must face a huge issue and it makes me embarrassed. But you already know that, dont you? My self esteem is at an all time low and nothing is helping me. I’m petrified with the fact that I’m giving in and giving up. I don’t know how to escape this seemingly endless cycle. I’m even more scared the cutting will start back up and when it does, i pray that you dont find out. I’ve never seen someone that upset and I cant bring myself to let you find out again. It would break your heart and i know that you don’t deserve that. I wish it was as easy to get rid of as you think. I wish it wasn’t as much of a struggle as it is. And don’t even get me started about the physical effects of this. The constant headache, the consistent lack of body heat, the stomach aches and the chapped lips. My nose is dry, my skin is dry. I drink water constantly but it doesn’t seem to do a damn thing. I wish i was normal. i wish a simple meal didn’t make me nauseas. I wish I could eat a cheeseburger without feeling like a fucking pig. I’m tired of feeing like this. I am so sick of the physical pain , the emotional strain, the lack of interest and focus. I don’t feel a sense of urgency or concern anymore. I tried telling my parents and they simply just ignored my cries for help and swore it was a phase that will pass. Maybe in three years when I’m in a hospital bed from lack of proper nutrients. Maybe then they’ll listen. Maybe they’ll believe me when they find me lifeless in my room because I couldn’t deal with the struggle. I feel like im swimming against the strongest current in the world, like I’m struggling to catch my breath. I can feel myself shutting down. I know myself well enough to know that much. I’m giving up. I’m shutting everyone out. I’ll end up sitting by myself out by the lake by my house. The one with all the trash. I can listen to the sounds of nature and be at peace. Maybe I’ll casually slip into the lake and never be seen again… I feel like if you found out that it’s gotten this bad you’d leave because it would hurt you to see your “sweet angel” going through hell. I’m no angel but goddamn I can’t loose you. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself. You’re the binding that holds me together. Without you, I’m merely a disaster. And while I know its wrong to lie to you and tell you I’m fine, I don’t have the heart to hurt you like that. Not again. Not now and not ever. you’re my main motivation to get better. You don’t realize this but you are. You, and you alone are keeping me from becoming what I fear the most.and it hurts me to have to lie to you every day, but I know the truth would hurt you way too much. I couldn’t do that to you. And I know that you sometimes read this site and im hoping I can let this slide under your radar so i can get it off my chest, but not in your mind. And i hope if you do happen to find out, that you understand. You always seem to have a good understanding of me and my craziness. I apologize for my disorder. I know you didnt ask for this, and frankly, I suppose I didnt either. Honestly, im hoping it gets to a point where it just fixes itself and vanishes into the past. Realistically though, i know it doesnt work that way.

p.s. you really are the best thing that ever happened to me. so i dont want you to be mad if you find this. I know you’ll get all upset and think i’m being selfish by not telling you all this. and you’ll probably get even more upset because im posting it to the world, but if you really read it and understood it like i hope you do (that is IF you find this) can you see why i didnt want to tell you directly?

And ontop of all this I lost my best friend. I suppose you’d say “I told you so.” I didn’t push her away. She ran away. She ditched me. She gave me hope and a friendship and then she was consumed by her endless urge to fix herself. She tries to fix herself when nothing is wrong. There’s not a thing in the world she can’t achieve. She’s got the personality and the looks, the focus, the passions, and creativity to do anything she wants. But she won’t. Instead she’ll keep ditching the ones who care for her the most. Why? To recycle though the ones that hurt her and kicked her while she was down. I don’t understand how the human mind works. She’s sitting next to me yet she completely ignores me and acts like I don’t exist. She’s too busy reminiscing with her ex best friend. Sometimes I think I care too damn much about everyone else’s happiness. I’m too focused on everyone else feeling safe and loved and happy that I forget to take care of myself. You tell me that all the time, but it never really occurred to me that it was this bad. It’s unfortunate really.

Sweetheart, moral of the story is that im terrified, i really am. and even though i have this constant fear of giving up, I know that i can fix myself if you help me. I need you here with me. I need you to love me, and support me. be honest with me, be faithful, be caring, all the things you are. all the kisses at red lights and flowers on your windshield. those moments with you remind me that there is hope, and that i do have something worth fighting for. that’s you. dont ever forget me. dont let me go. because im never letting you escape from my heart.

i shlove you a lot a lot.
love forever, Your (Anorexic) Fairy Princess <3

Dear P,

Fri, 25 May 2012 22:02:33 -0400

Please take a few days to absorb my marriage proposal via email.

I know it’s funny but it’s the only way…

Love,
Your-Non-Immigrant-girlfriend

Dear _________,

Wed, 23 May 2012 00:27:35 -0400

You’ve told me several times you can’t do relationships. And yet, here I am. Hopeful, of you giving me a chance. Even though I’m a shy, quiet idiot, who wants nothing more than some love. Thats all I’ve ever wanted out of life. I don’t see it happening. But, I get it. Pain makes the heart numb, and disillusioned? I don’t feel much these days. I feel like we have something, though we’ve never really given it a chance. Like that last time we saw each other, you and eric kept saying I had some horrible face on or was acting a certain way. I couldn’t put my finger on it till a few weeks later. I wasn’t aware of it. I was upset with you. Would that be understandable though? I said I wanted to be with you, and I got what I didn’t want to hear. But, it seemed like an end. And there we were, at applebees. I’m tired of feeling, for no reason (it seems). Tell me we will never happen and let me be, or give us a chance. Thats all I’m asking. I’d like to go on with feeling nothing, or try to cultivate something real. I don’t want this wishy-washy shit anymore. I can’t handle it.

Alex.

Dear Photographer,

Fri, 18 May 2012 08:51:29 -0400

Well, it has been nearly 2 years to the day that I last wrote you a letter on this blog. A lot has happened since then. Too many intense things to catalogue. But you’re still sultry. My gay friends still think you’re hot. I think so, too. Even more so since I now know your heart, not just your body. I wish I’d never gotten one compliment from you. The path that compliment took me down was riddled with sadness. A lot of great sex, but a lot of sadness.

We didn’t tell anyone but they found out anyway, so this is the end.

Love,
The girl who must now stop dreaming of you for good

p.s. Every freckle was delicious, despite the consequences. Seriously.

Dear Ever After,

Tue, 15 May 2012 11:11:47 -0400

I know you know how I feel but it just makes me feel better telling you again. It’s been a while sense I have seen you or talked to you last. I keep trying to tell myself that you are replaceable and that I just miss being with some one, but that doesn’t work because I know it’s just a lie. When I think about you I don’t think about all the activities that we did together I think about all the things that are unique to you. I miss the way you would always look at me and give me this goofy looking smile that always no matter what would cheer me up and make me want to get closer to you. I miss the way your head would seemingly fit perfectly in my messed up shoulders when we cuddled, and I miss how perfect your fingers felt in between mine while we held hands. If I had my way I’d spend every day right by your side, and if I could turn back time, believe me I’d try for you and I. Each moment your gone is a moment to long in my life. The very thought of you gone makes everything wrong in my life. I get up, go to work, and hang out with friends and stay busy none stop, and I should be having the time of my life with all the fun things I have done but I can barely even fake a smile. Everything I do seems like its missing something; everything just feels so empty without you. I die every day that you’re away from me. I know I said before that I could live without you, but my heart breaks with every beat, and I don’t know how much more I can take. I remember when we were together and you would freak your self out over bills or your jobs or what ever, and I would always be there calm and collected and I would pull you out of that. The funny thing is now though, for me everything feels like its falling apart and I feel like I’m losing grip on my situation and for the first time in my life I realize that you were my sheath that kept me sharp and safe from this crazy world, because without you I’m a disaster. All I ever needed was for you to be around me to instantly calm me down and make me sane again, and now that you aren’t around I fear the worst for myself. I want you to know that you’re my ever after, and that I love you more then anything in this world and that it will never change. I hope that one day you’ll promise me that you will never leave again.

Sincerely, Disaster

Dear Wizard,

Mon, 14 May 2012 23:37:55 -0400

I don’t know why I’m writing you a letter, when I know that you can just read my mind with your wizard powers. You are wonderful. Your wise words make me wish I was strong enough to help myself get better. I know I’m not quite ready yet, but I at least feel hopeful now. So… Thank you.

- Falafel

May Post Office Project

Sat, 12 May 2012 18:07:20 -0400

The art of writing a real, personal letter. It’s an art we can all take a little more time to appreciate, and a wealth of time to explore. The Post Office Project is designed to bring back this lost art, and supply happiness and encouragement for those willing to send and receive letters. For the month of May and part of April, I ask that you take time to write a letter to Rachel, who could really use your words right now.

Rachel is currently in the process of recovering from anorexia, depression, and self-harm, in addition to coping with her father’s passing, who left life this past March 26th due to colon cancer, only fourteen days after finding out.

I asked her to share some of her story, which I hope will offer insight to what she’s been through:

“When my parents divorced 7 years ago I blamed my dad so I refused to talk to him for a few years, when I was hospitalized for my eating disorder he came and visited as much as possible and since I was under 18 i couldn’t really refuse his visits very well. When i got out of the hospital my dad and i tried to forge some kind of father-daughter relationship but it was rocky until about a year and a half ago. He’d moved to england with his new wife to work which meant I got free plane tickets once a year to visit him (i was born in england so it’s an important place for me).

I visited him last summer and we didn’t fight at all and because I was 18 he became a lot more lenient than when I was younger. Since he moved to england january of 2011 I emailed my father and video chatted with him more and more often. In march he thought he had the flu and lost a lot of weight… when his wife noticed that his stomach was bulging even though he wasn’t able to eat much they went to the emergency room, on march 13th the tests came back that he had stage four colon cancer (which by British standard of medical stuff is incurable). They said he had less than five years.

He and his wife were able to come back to the United States to get medical attention here since there are different “cures” available here. They got back on the 22nd of march and went directly to the hospital. I saw him for a few hours on Friday and he was doing alright, he was awake and coherent. On saturday he’d been put on pain relief drugs so he was very sleepy and would come in and out of consciousness (he even fell asleep mid-sentence talking to me).

On sunday my family told me he had had some tests done so he was very tired, I sat and held his hand for a while but didn’t stay long enough to talk to him when he woke up later in the evening (I regret not staying as long as i possibly could). On monday morning at about 3am my mom rushed into my room telling me to wake up and get dressed, that we were going to the hospital because my dad had crashed overnight and the doctors didn’t know how much longer they could sustain him. We got to the hospital about 3:45 and were in and out of his room all morning. He was taken to the ICU at 6am and only two family members could be with him at a time so we had to take turns. He was on medications that were the only things keeping him alive, meds to raise his blood pressure and meds to lower it in order to stabilize it…. He had a respirator and a breathing tube down his throat.

After a while they started to raise the morphine levels to keep him comfortable and he woke up a bit. He kept trying to pull the tube out of his throat so he could talk to me and my brother and step mother, it was really scary and we had to keep telling him that he couldn’t do that, that we would do the talking. The doctors said he’d had brain damage and probably wasn’t coherent and didn’t know what was going on at all.

At the end of it all, for the last hour or so- the whole family was allowed into his room, we all talked to him and told him how much we loved him, and I swear he could hear us and understand what we were saying, whoever talked he would look in their direction like he recognized them. Eventually the doctors took out the breathing tube and raised the morphine and lowered the other meds that were keeping him alive. I stayed in there as long as I could but had to go out to the waiting room because I was so scared watching my father die.

My grandma came out with me and after a while we thought that it would be right for us to go back to him even if it hurt really bad to see him like that. Right as we opened the door to his room we were informed that he had literally JUST died. I think God was calling my grandma and I back there so that we could be there with the rest of his family and pray. 10:43 am on march 26th my father passed away. He died staring into his wife’s eyes, holding her hand.

One of the only things keeping me from acting on my eating disorder and self-harming is knowing that my father would be so sad to see me do that. I know that he wanted the best for me (he actually posted on my facebook wall a day or two after he found out he had cancer and basically told me he loved me and was so proud of me for working so hard to recover, I’ve saved it as my computer background). he also told me in the two weeks before he died that he was at peace and was ready to go whenever God wanted him to go.”

Rachel is hoping to receive letters of support, stories, and strange facts.

If you’re willing to write to Rachel, please submit your letter by mailing it to

Dear Meat
12394 Charles St.
La Plata, MD 20646

and write “Rachel” on the back of the envelope submitted. For those who wish to place a return address, please write it within the letter itself or inside the envelope, as opposed to its front.

Letter submissions will be accepted until June 6th, 2012. On this date, the letters will be sealed together within a package and mailed to Rachel. Letters received after June 6th will be posted to the Dear Meat website.

Thank you for reading, and please encourage, friends, family, acquaintances, and whoever else you believe could help to write in—a single letter can make a tremendous difference.

Happy writing,

Matt

Dear boy-who-keeps-me-up-at-night,

Tue, 08 May 2012 12:34:54 -0400

I am afraid. Not just of the creature that is lurching around in the attic or my wizened neighbour with alarming facial hair, who likes to corner me and force me to try her suspicious jam, while thrusting wallet photos of her cats in my face. I am afraid of losing you, or possibly I may have already and I am merely swimming in a sea of denial. You used to drown the noise of the creature in the attic with your honey laden laughter and soft guitar playing. I am so very afraid that I will become the lonely lady next door, living off cement-like jam and forced conversations.

From the girl-who-is-buying-a-cat-tomorrow

P.S I miss you.

Dear Mom and Dad,

Thu, 03 May 2012 00:25:28 -0400

I graduate college in nine days. Can you just pretend to be proud of me? For just one day, smile and tell me that you are proud of me for being the first person in the family to pursue a degree. I’m sorry that my graduation will take away 2 hours of your life. I’m sorry I’ve decided to go to law school thousands of miles away from home. I’m sorry that my big day is meaningless to the two people that mean the most to me.

-The Graduate.

Dear Chris,

Tue, 01 May 2012 11:58:16 -0400

I know we didn’t fit. I knew right away, when you were an awful kisser. I thought I could use you the way you used other people. I think I did for a time. You warned me, those first few months. I just wish you could see how much you hurt me now, after the fact. I wish I could have seen how close I was to falling for you, but I didn’t. Or if I did, I chose not to correct it. (I thought I could use you.)

I’m not a silly girl, I’m just good at caring for people once they get far enough in. I just didn’t expect you to get that close, just like I didn’t expect you to cross that line that night, the line I blatantly told you, so many times, that I didn’t want you to cross or have. But you never gave me a chance to say no. You didn’t notice when my body froze and I stopped breathing. You only noticed when I began crying, because you thought I was coming. And then you took me again.

You never gave me a chance to say no. I’ll never forget how you felt, Chris. I’ve tried. You’re a part of me, and I hope you never forget me, either.

Dear Meat,

Mon, 30 Apr 2012 20:25:30 -0400

I used to being busy all the time, and now that I’m not I feel like I’m forgetting something. -M

Dear Sam,

Sun, 29 Apr 2012 16:58:08 -0400

How did we manage to get so close in the beginning? Before this happened we were just friends, and I barely knew you. But then it changed and somehow I felt like you treated me differently, even though you love another girl, and that’s when I realized I fell in love with you. But now, I don’t think that the feelings are still the same anymore. For once I felt that you are just playing along with me. But on the other side I thought and hoped that everything you do to me was sincere. What is right, actually? I feel so confused at times and you made me feel like I was nothing. Sometimes I feel like we’re really close and stuff but on other days you treat me like I’m just no one. It’s like you pulled me at one time and pushed me at other times. Yes, it is like the so called ‘push-and-pull’ theory you’ve thought me. What do you actually want?

It was just last week that I thought it was the end. It was so awkward I didn’t know what happened. Whatever it was, I guess it was both our faults, you should admit it too because you were wrong. Because in the beginning you should have never started, but again, it’s too late for you to turn back time, and it’s hard for me to take back my feelings since you can’t choose who you fall in love with, right? And I have fallen way too deep to pull myself again.

Now I feel that we’re back like the old days. So is it true, that we’re back? That this friendship will still go on, despite my feelings that is gone? And despite that you will never look at me the way I have looked at you before? Only if you’d forget her…

Photo

Sat, 28 Apr 2012 19:10:04 -0400

Dear cougar,

Sat, 28 Apr 2012 10:36:28 -0400

I know you don’t like that name. I know it makes you feel like you’ve done something wrong. But you know I’m just messing around. As I have done always. It was mutual, we both wanted it.

I never know why I do any of the things I do; and this includes writing such a letter as this, knowing that it’ll just lie in some digital archive in anonymity until the internet dies - probably being judged by some Grammar Nazi sitting there twiddling his thumbs and scoffing – shut up you, you twat.

But write I will, because you’ve been on my mind a wee bit in the past week or two and this seems expressive and shit.

I guess it started when you came back to us. You’d been away for months. (A year maybe, could have been two who knows I’ve been doing stuff. Drunk) But however long it had been, you came back to us, for a while. It was only maybe, say an hour? But it was nice to see you again. Nice news that you were single again.

I hated you that night though. And when did you start doing drugs you silly bitch? Was it supposed to be you growing up? You’ll always stay silly. You sitting jaw clenched eyes blazing hands twitching – scratching. You’re horrendous. Perhaps I’m being too cynical. Or judgemental as you would call me.

Maybe.

But whatever you’re attitudes to drugs are now, it was good seeing you. After that bug-eyed bitch stole you. She’s not even pretty and she has huge ugly eyes and she’ll never be a model. I’m going off topic now though (I don’t actually have a topic). You looked nice, as always. You do have such a pretty face. Petite body, soft skin, blah-blah. It’s a shame you have a mind to match though. Empty and childish. You’re nearly nineteen soon. God that’s scary.

We’ve known each other for a long time now. Old friend. I’ve only just realised. It seems weird now. How we met. You fancied me. I was thirteen. You were fifteen. God that’s strange. What where you thinking dear?

Was I some sort of grown up kid? Maybe I was super fly for my age who knows.

I always remember lunch. Walking past you and your friends, and hearing them whispering about me to you. Telling you to talk to me, to say hello - to say anything. Yelling my name as I shuffled past too embarrassed to even glance over.

But as it turned out you introduced yourself and we spoke. A lot actually. It made me feel pretty good - knowing that I was speaking to ‘that really hot girl’ two years above and that she liked me.

But we spoke more. We grew to know each other over the years. We had relationships with other people, got upset, had laughs, flirted, walked about and kept speaking. We fell out of contact and came back into contact a few times, spoke on the phone ‘till sun rise and so on.

My best friend once even said he envied me because I had you. You created my ego.

Then, as things go, we met up in the summer after not having seen one another for a while. And things got intimate. We grew closer, flirting actually began to lead places and sex appeared. We were young then. Silly and curious. Our generation grew too fast. You loved me. I don’t know how I felt about you. Maybe it was purely lust. But we went onwards, you asked me out which says a lot. We went out and it was pretty good. For a while. But then I met that other girl. The psycho (as I would only find out when it became too late). She appeared as something more. She was intelligent, and she was cool as fuck. She had that raw edge about her. That flare. She loved movies and music. She read great books and enjoyed people. You never liked any of that. And you found out about her, my talking to her. How jealous you got. I don’t blame you now though; I know I did at the time. But I know now how you must have felt. Being so in love with someone you actually couldn’t sleep for weeks when we had a fight, even when things were resolved. And I was there talking to some other girl who I had more in common with. She wasn’t as good looking as you though. That’s something right? And I couldn’t stand it any longer. The jealousy. It became constant and I lost interest in you.

And the story goes as one would expect. We broke up and I went to her. You cried and slept beside your mother for a month. Must have been bad, I know that now.

But she turned out to be a psycho. A well hidden one. And we didn’t last long. The sentiment wore off and I saw how fucked up she was. So we broke up. It was say, a month and a bit? At most that.

I remember the first time we hung out again after her. You cried because you were so happy. We didn’t have sex that night. I get that. We did though a couple other times. It was always fun.

But you disappeared for a while soon after that. We grew up a lot in that time. We changed everything about ourselves. I even got shorter hair, which was a neat change. And now that you’re sort of back, I guess I can admit to myself that I still kind of liked you. But I’d be lying to myself if I ever said I wanted to be back with you.

I told you a lie that night, the night you came back. Not to you exactly. I told your friend. I told her to tell you I still liked you. And I admit to you now it was a lie. You know this. I was slightly drunk, and you looked hot. And the fact that I knew that I could have you made it easy. But then you were being dragged away from us again. By her. She wanted to go off and score some more of that shit. What even was it, drone?

It’s sort of good though, that it never – it’s good that you left again. Because I was having a good time talking to a new girl. She’s pretty. She’s intelligent and she likes good movies and music. And this time she’s not a psycho (I made sure this time) and she almost got annoyed at me that night. Because of you.

So I guess whilst I’ve been sitting here smoking that cigar I had left over from last week, drinking ginger ale and listening to Dizzy Gillespie (the new girl likes jazz too, which makes her marriage material) I’ve realised that although I might want you, I know that I don’t at the same time. I don’t want you to come back. I don’t want to like you and I don’t. I didn’t want you back that night. I wanted your body back. I wanted the ecstasy and sweat and scratching and screaming. I didn’t want you. But this new girl is good. She’s good to chat to, she listens to my ramblings about wanting a world still set in the fifties and she wants to do all the same stuff like travel everywhere and met everyone interesting and see places - and she likes my spontaneous writing sprees where I get really into a subject and just talk about it for ages and rant and ramble and go on and on and on about anything and everything wonderful. And she’s prettier than any other girl I’ve been with lately. I think she’d work out well.

Ciao,

- The Starving Hysterical Mad.

Dear T,

Tue, 24 Apr 2012 09:51:56 -0400

We’ve been broken up for over a year now, so stop freaking out every time I mention hanging out with another guy or have a guy in my profile picture.
You forfeited your right to have any say in what I do when you broke up with me.

I think you are finally realizing your mistake.
And I have finally realized mine.

Never again,
N

Dear Jason,

Mon, 23 Apr 2012 19:23:44 -0400

I’ll never admit it, but,
I want a goodbye kiss.

And this time the chocolate milkshake’s on me!

Olivia K

Dear Meat,

Mon, 16 Apr 2012 10:19:32 -0400

My sister
is tearing
our family
apart
because
she is
obsessed
with
herself.

And I hate her for it.

— out of patience and love.

Dear Prince Jimmy,

Sun, 15 Apr 2012 11:24:45 -0400

I think it’s ironic to call you that. I used to call you Jimmy sometimes when we were dating, and you would glare at me. And then after we broke up, I would call you Jimmy, and you would glare and say not to call you that, because everyone you had ever known called Jim or Jimmy was an asshole. I never have said so until now, but I think Jimmy is quite a fitting name for you under those conditions.
I’ve known you for eight years now. I’m twenty-two, and you asked me out when I was fifteen. We dated for six months, and broke up without ever even kissing or holding hands. Long distance relationships never really work, I guess. I was so shy of you, and when I moved a town over, there were so many girls closer by to kiss or hold hands with. As I recall, you married that girl.
She was so mean to me when she started dating you. She said all of my friends from school whispered about the two of you, and talked about how she stole you from me, and that it was my fault. I guess that’s because I was a fifteen year old who had just had her heart crushed by one of her friends and her boyfriend all in one swoop of lips. I found the sent email logs a couple of days ago, from all those years in the past. I had forgotten.
I moved back into town a few months later, something I had been talking excitedly and secretly to you about for a while. When I started my junior year in the fall, I dreaded seeing the two of you. The first time I did I was on the way to the library. I was right in front of the doors, and I looked up, and there you were. Staring at me with those mercilessly beautiful grey eyes. She was standing beside you, and never saw me, because I did a u-turn right there, and power walked for the closest set of stairs. I spent the morning in art class, thankfully with a huge block of clay to work my frustrations out on. I couldn’t punch you, or her, but the clay was fair game.
The funny thing was that about two weeks later you called me, late at night, just like you always used to. I was reading, but when I realized it was you, I pretended I had been asleep, and asked what you wanted. You said just to talk. When I asked what about, you repeated your previous answer. I told you it was a little late for that, maybe some other time, and promptly hung up. The next day, I found out you and she were having an argument and had broken up.
We didn’t speak in more than just passing over the next few years. We called on birthdays, and that was simply it. Your wife became angry and jealous when you called me on my birthday. Looking back, I guess I can’t blame her.
Then one day I messaged you about something out of the blue, and and found out that the two of you were in the middle of a divorce. I was dating a guy at the time, and I didn’t think anything more about you. You kept messaging me though, about once a week. Until one day long after I’d broken up with my boyfriend, I called you one night, it happened to be right around your birthday. It turned out that both of us were at separate parties that night. We made plans to hang out the next night, and from then on it was like nothing had ever happened. We never dated, we never broke up, we never had all those years of uneasy friendship like we were walking rotten ice.
Then, it happened. I guess it was inevitable. We had been hanging out more and more over the months since that night I called you. You asked me to be your girlfriend again. I had felt it, too. I fought it desperately, but in the end it shattered all of my finely built defenses like so much glass for you to even ask. You made me promises that you couldn’t keep about never hurting me again. Even then I worried that it was a mistake. I had kept any sort of romantic notions toward you banked for a long time, first with hurt, then hatred, fear, and finally friendship. At that moment I let them all flare up and run wild.
Nearly a year later, we had been arguing for the past few weeks about different things. My family was hateful, spiteful, and nosy. You were coming home late. I never cooked. You messed up all of the dishes in the cabinets when you cooked. I missed you. I was never home when you wanted me there. Finally you left. I had just found out I was pregnant, and you thought I was lying to keep you. The night you left, I did too. I packed a bag and went to my mothers. I stayed for two weeks. Then I stayed at my friends house keeping her child while she was on vacation for a week. Then I did whatever I could to not have to go home and face that empty house where everything reminded me of you. I cried everyday at least once if only for a moment. And sometimes I couldn’t make the tears stop. You had a new girlfriend within a week, you wouldn’t talk to me, and you said some really cruel things to me about how I was a big girl, I could take care of myself. About what a liar I was. What a bitch I was.
Everyone told me I needed to calm down, I needed to relax, that everything would be ok. It wasn’t good for me or the baby to keep myself under the amount of stress I was putting on myself. So I tried. I texted you at first, stupidly hoping you would alleviate some of my fears. Usually I just got bile and venom. Then I tried to write you letters, sort of a journalistic kind of thing. It didn’t help that much either. I tried sleeping. Watching movies. I have always had an active mind, though, and at any hint of boredom, I was thinking about you, the baby, me, what would I do? Why didn’t you love me anymore? You always said you wanted children, why were you being like this now? Or I would text you.
I thought I was in pain, and just when some of it started to let up… I lost the baby. And then I was in some real pain. The physical part was paltry. The emotional part was rendering. It brought me to my knees. It was then that I figured out how to think about nothing, to calm down. Too late. The first night they gave me Adavan and Valium to calm me down and make me sleep. I didn’t sleep that night. I stayed up staring at things, not caring and not thinking about anything. The next couple of nights I took pain medicine and lay in bed. And then my birthday came, and I got up. I did my hair, and put on makeup, and some nice clothes, and I went out and got utterly trashed with one of our mutual friends. She was the only one who knew both of us. I think I might have been fine that night, maybe just had one drink. It was my twenty-first birthday after all. Then I found out you had texted her and asked her to take care of me. I was angry, confused, hurt. I was everything and nothing. I had a hole inside of me, gaping and raw, and I filled it up with every drink set in front of me.
After that I drank every night, though not in such a large quantity. I didn’t text you. I didn’t talk to anyone. I left for work and then went back home and slept or drank, and it was getting to the point that my friends made excuses to get me out of the house. You called me. I told you I was going to hang out with our mutual friend. You asked what, you can’t invite me? Then I did. That night I drank with you, and you kept trying to get me to sleep with you. I kept saying no, and ignoring you. I wound up getting so drunk that I did anyway. The next day we were talking about something, and I said ‘What are you wanting to get back together?’ And you replied you thought we already were. And that was that. A few months later you left again.
I guess this time it’s for good. We’ve been broken up for nearly nine months. You said you hated me at first, and wouldn’t talk to me. Then you loved me, but needed to work things out for yourself. And then you said I just needed to get over you. And finally we fell into that uneasy friendship again. I even let you sleep on my couch when you lost your job. With the only stipulation that you couldn’t bring your new girlfriend into my house. When you did, I kicked you out. I’ve seen you since, and you’ve tried to talk to me, but I’ve ignored you, and pretended like you don’t exist. Childish, maybe, but I can’t seem to do anything else. I probably should’ve had my fill of you long ago, but you see, love does crazy things to your mind. Even now I still love you. But I feel like I did when you called me that late night in junior year. I feel like I’m finally ok. Jimmy, I feel like I will be able to go on without you. I’ve realized that you are a lot like cigarettes. You’re addictive. You can quit cigarettes, and not smoke them anymore. But once a smoker, you’ll always crave another one.

Love,

Someone Who Quit a Bad Habit

P.S.

Dear Meat Readers,

I apologize for the length of this letter. My birthday just passed by again. I just wanted someone to know my story, from my point of view, without actually having to talk shit about Prince Jimmy around people that we know.

Dear arrogant boy from work,

Sat, 07 Apr 2012 13:32:53 -0400

I don’t know if writing this helped last time, but even though it seems stupid to write anonymously to a blog you will never see, when I could just tell you, I thought I’d try it again.

So I thought I was over you. I thought I’d made up my mind that, once again, I was just kidding myself that I actually liked someone. And you unwittingly furthered my attempts to forget the feeling of liking you, by doing your best impression of an arrogant arsehole, and being in a totally unresponsive bad mood for a couple of weeks. And then this evening, all you have to do is smile at me. Be your previous charming self. And my head is spinning and confused.

You’re leaving in a few weeks. But I know full well that I will never have the confidence to say anything.

Yours,

A girl who hopes writing a pathetic sounding letter may help

Dearly Departed

Tue, 03 Apr 2012 18:14:08 -0400

How can someone be there one day, and the next gone? And nothing but wild rumors to explain it, too. I didn’t think it was real until I reached that class and found counselors, and even then I waited for you to fill your empty seat. You did not come. “Died unexpectedly,” says the family, which seems a bit shady to us. Suicide? Drug overdose? If you had died from something beyond your control, we don’t see why it would be hidden. But it doesn’t really matter now, does it.

So now you’re gone. I had a crush on you, as immature as that sounds. It was really only a crush though, maybe even infatuation. I wouldn’t be so bold as to say I loved you, I barely knew you. You were nice though, and I would have loved to know you more than I did. I wish we had been friends.

It was strange to be in that class though. It was creative writing, not a normal academic class, and we were much closer, much tighter-knit. We grieved together. I don’t think there were any dry eyes there - and most of us, like me, had not known you that well. I guess that its so rare these days to see death, it’s just not something we’re used to and we don’t know how to react. There is nothing to comfort the pain of loss.

But now I’ll address this letter to everyone else, everyone who has or ever will contemplate suicide. It’s not just your life you end. If you think “No one cares about me,” then you’re wrong. I’m there, that person you don’t think of much, maybe the one you don’t notice. But I think of you. If you make that decision to end your life then you’ll never know if things could have been better tomorrow, or next year. I’ll never know either.

I want to help you. I want to listen. Find someone you can confide in, someone you can trust, and tell them everything. Maybe it’s me, maybe it isn’t. But you’re never alone. Even the people who barely knew you would be shaken by your loss - don’t do that to us. We want you here. Please stay.

I love you, even if its just a crush.