Note: Before I begin, I know that this is not going to get read by who it is about. Maybe I prefer it that way. This is not even really a letter to that person. It is a letter to the reader—to anyone who has ever felt anything like this. Regardless, this is very personal and deep down I am a highly sensitive and delicate person. This is about lost love and self sabotage and intense regret and pain. I hope that anyone reading this can understand, at least at some level. I don't want there to be any misconceptions about the purpose of this letter.
To M:
I miss you. I miss the way you talk, your effortless smile, I miss those eyes and the pain underneath their watery film. I miss listening to your voice and to the words you would say. I miss seeing your face and knowing exactly how you felt. I miss how vulnerable you were and how I jealous I was of it because I was not as capable of vulnerability. I miss how complex you were. You always reminded me of a flower —and of myself too, even though I have never been anything like a flower. I was so thoroughly anxious with you because I believe in all ways that you were better than me. I was scared and I loved you and it made me do very stupid things. I will forever be regretful of it. You were one of those people that is truly unforgettable. I miss you.
YOU ARE READING
February Journal
DiversosMostly poems, journal entries, some visual art. Just a place to put my current headspace into words-clumsily perhaps, but all the same. Updates whenever I feel like it, but when I update it will probably be in chunks (I'll post a couple parts at the...
