Letters To Us

The Eighth Time I Wrote to You

Hi my love. Once again I find myself at a crossroads. I can't seem to write to anybody else but you, and so I'm just letting go and not think about the reason why that happens. I'm just annoyed at the fact that when it comes to him, my mind just gets messed up and confused. I think that I'm still not resolved with myself, and so maybe the ideas in my mind aren't logical enough for me to transfer them onto paper.

I miss you. But I miss you as a little bit more than a friend. I still have feelings for you but truth be told, I miss how safe I felt in your embrace. I miss how safe I felt in your arms. I miss how a few words from you could make me feel ready to face the world when it put me down. Most of all, I miss you as a whole. I wanted you back before, and I think I still do, but more as a friend than a lover. You were my safe haven, you were the light when all I could see was darkness; when the emptiness filled me up, you made everything better. It felt good with you, it felt right. However, I still don't understand why you did what you did. If you felt such profound love for what we had, why did you look me in my eyes and lied to me? Why did you leave my family with questions unanswered? why aren't you trying to fix things? Why don't you care anymore? I just... Need you.

Right now I've reached the point where I start breaking, that's the feeling I get when I know the healing process hasn't really begun and I still have a shit load of sadness to go through. I think it's because everything's happening at the same time. I still miss you, and I have feelings for you, then I tried to fill in the void with someone else. That someone fucked me up completely. He knows just how to make me miss him, knows just what to do. Whenever he calls, I answer, whenever he cries for help, I show up. I either want him to leave, or I don't want him to go, but ultimately I just want him to stay. He knows perfectly well how to fuck me up, and then make it okay, and in the end I'm always the one who ends up getting played. It's like I'm getting off on messing with my sanity, and I can't seem to help it, I just keep getting deeper into the hole. Please help me, someone help me. I can't believe I was about to give my heart to a piece of shit. And... Wanna know the worst thing about this? I'm still here, getting sucker punched. He's a manipulative, senseless and heartless son of a bitch.

It's getting harder to get through the days without thinking about him, with a smile on my face and pretending that everything is okay. In this moment, while writing this, even though I don't feel good at all, I know what you're say to me. You'd be so mad at me for feeling like this and for being like this for a person who doesn't even deserve half of me. You'd tell me to get the fuck up and out of this never ending hole, to go wash my face and fight for myself because no one else will ever do that better than me. You'd tell my feminist ass off the bed and go study to be rich and focus on myself. You'd tell me that men who play me should fuck off and that I should let them know who's the toy, just by being happy, just by believing in the regression to the mean.

You'd tell me: "Don't worry love, karma's got his location, he'll pay for it". And I would heard those words carefully, get up, and make you proud. Just like I'm gonna go do it now. Thank you for your help.

I miss you,

Mia