Letter 1

November 17, 11:00 P.M.

Dear Emily:

It’s been hard, you know? Being without you. All these months have been a never-ending session of remembering our conversations, filled with what ifs. Nothing’s been the same since we parted. Those long and sad summer nights killed me each time a little more. No one’s caught my eye since I last talked to you, and I constantly find myself comparing every other girl I think may finally get me out of this black hole with you.

It is, however, in this sad night that I ask myself many things. The plane’s ten thousand feet above the Gulf, and all the remains of the city have been left behind. And now that people surround me, I finally become aware of how happy you made me and how miserable I made you. This is when I ask myself, did she really love me? Was she willing to fulfill the promises we made to each other on those nights of pills, alcohol, and blades? Did she love me as much as I loved her, dreamt of me as much as I dreamt of her, or meant everything she said and sang as much as I did?

            The emptiness of night has now engulfed everything as I realize that I will never know the answer to these questions, not now that you’re gone. You’ve moved on, and I thought I had, too. But honestly, I was just pushing aside the fact that you were the one I intended to love forever. I’ve tried to convince myself countless times that I’ve moved on from you. I’ve tricked myself into believing that some other girl has caught my attention, making me think ‘damn, I love her’ the same way and the same amount of times as you. I am, however, astonished as the fact that I haven’t moved on even though you have strikes me as a lightning bolt, reducing my mended and bruised heart to mere ashes of pain, grief, and above all, regret.

            I remember when we used to sing those cheesy love songs together, thinking of no one but ourselves, believing we would always be together. The miles between us were no obstacle for our love, as it grew more and more for each foot of separation between the metropolis that is New York and the town of Savannah, South Carolina. Those songs don’t mean the same anymore, but they aren’t just songs either. Having someone to sing those songs with and then losing that someone because of my own stupidity has given them a new meaning, a painful yet bewitching meaning.

            Nothing’s been the same, and it will never be the same. You grabbed my broken heart and brought it back to life, making me feel things I had never felt before, such as true love, or true jealousy.  I wish you nothing but the best, my love, and I pray to God you are feeling better and better each day.

            It is late, and I am sad. However, I can’t help but smile with tears in my eyes when I think of how you truly are better off without me, and how you may have already found a guy that deserves you and gives you everything you look for. Someone who’s able to say, ‘this girl is mine. I love her more than life, and someday I’ll marry her’ like I once did. My blood and scars now scream your name in agony and in an attempt to bring back that that made them heal, even though I know that you’re not coming back.

Je t’aime, mon amour.

M.