One Million Tiny Things

A ring in the dust

Dear Christopher,
I don't know what would happen if I turned up at your door. But if I had to guess, I'd say that your butler would chase me out with a broom while your brother gets ready to run me over with his car. A year isn't enough time to patch up the holes I created and I truly am sorry for the scars I left.

I don't know how I did it. Repeat those three god-forsaken words every morning to you. Put those eight letters out my mouth and convince myself I meant it but not have the courage to just say yes when you were down on one knee.

I know you won't believe me, not anymore, but I really did love you.

Just not enough to say I do.

You told me it was just another party. Being your girlfriend I was used to the formal balls and the gossip trails that happened every other week. I came I through those doors oblivious to anything you'd gotten ready, not at all ready for you to ask me to be your forever.

We'd floated to opposite sides of a spectrum. You were ready to spend your life by my side and I, I didn't even know what I wanted.

I was a young, confused girl who was getting lost in her own life. I'm not making excuses. I really was in a dreadful place at the time, you knew that. I had just lost my job, your distant aunt, Madam May had come to live with me and it was driving me nuts. Things were changing around me, Chris, and I didn't know what to do to fix it.

Maybe accepting that ring would have solved everything for me. But deep down, I think we both know that if I'd said yes, we'd be in front of an attorney by now signing our divorce papers. We got along alright for short times, those little moments with you were the best of my life. But put the two of us together for years and we'd be like fire and water clawing at each other, until one gives out. And that's not the future I wanted.

I know that I can't ask for your forgiveness, not after I picked up my dress and ran off the second you said "Marry Me?" It's not fair. But I do want to apologize. Apologize for running everything we could have had into the ground and burying our memories under piles of sand. I'm sorry for leaving your ring in the dust and taking off without so much as an explanation.

I've heard what they say about me. The girl who had it all and threw it into the fire. May just released her statement to the news, how I was "demented and delusional". She spoke of me as a mentally unstable, lowly gold digger who'd backed out at the last moment.

All I'm saying is that, Chris, I'm sure you'll find the one someday. It wasn't me, it never was me. Somebody's going to come along and heal all the cracks I made. Somebody will be able to tolerate dinner with all your family including your grandma's aunt's daughter's somebody who's come to town all of a sudden. Somebody will have the patience to learn etiquette and know what fork to use when eating a steak and that picking it up in your hands just isn't the way to go. Somebody from somewhere will twirl around in your arms and giggle at your jokes. Somebody will take your hand in their's and have a smile ready for you whenever you meet them. Somebody will manage to be that perfect lady hanging from your arm at every social event. And one day, somebody will take that ring from your hand with a big yes. The champagne glasses that crashed to the floor when you proposed to me will be held up in celebration. The music that shut off when I ran will sing louder than ever. The grimaces on everyone's faces will have turned to laughs.

But that somebody isn't me.

I was too wild, too out of control, too - as the headlines say- insane. But, that's what you fell for; the rule-breaking, mischief-causing, mildly-crazy girl who turned heads wherever she went. People were appaled by me. My hair was orange, my clothes were magenta, I was everything that the word mess talks about.

And you were the famed, law-abiding, calm, understanding Prince. Together, we were destined for disaster.

The first dinner I showed upto with you, I swear your mother dropped the wine glass in her hand. Halfway through it, even I realised that my laughs were too loud, my cutlery was all mixed up and I was a tad bit drunk from the red wine that the rest of you had barely touched. The way everyone around that table looked at me was as if I was a headache that came flying into the Royal Palace. I was giving them all migraines by just being me.

Sure, I cleaned up on the outside, got pressed into a perfect little mould, exchanged all my bright orange clothes for shades of dull mauve or light peach. Threw out my scribbled converse for gleaming silver heals. But, I couldn't destroy the fire inside me. Chris, I need to be free. I am this uncontrollable, unquenchable, roaring fire that destroys everything in its path. And a princess is never a suitable title for a ball of chaos.

But what is one to do? Maybe as time went I would have gotten used to the rules of your world. In different circumstances, I might have spent the rest of my life with you. But where we were, all the demeaning looks, all the judgement, it took its toll.

And the ring, I never saw it properly the first time. All I understood was that this was a rope tying me to the social constrictions of royalty for the rest of my life. I just couldn't do it.

I saw an actual picture of the ring on the paper last week. It was a gleaming ruby bordered with tiny diamonds. It was glittering, shining and resembled a fire of its own. I know why you picked it out. The bright red, the destructive beauty reminded you of me. Chris, it brings tears to my eyes to see how much you noticed about me and how I just let it all go.

But, I wasn't ready for a life with you. I couldn't deal with it all. The paparazzi, the regulations, the rumors, I don't have the steel suit you have to just walk away from it all. I get hurt over and over again, and each day I got more vulnerable than the last.

I never got to say goodbye. I never got to thank you for making my time with you a ride worth remembering. I want to hug you, kiss you, love you forever, but time is swift and life goes fast. I just can't spend it in frilly frocks and high shoes looking like the epitome of having it together when I'm falling apart. Goodbye, Chris, live long and live well.

Love,
Merin.