Buzz Buzz Buzz

"Ah...my stupid alarm," I said sleepily. I wanted more sleep, but I had places to be. I wake up Ryland, my boyfriend. We both got up and headed to our closet. Our closet was the size of an actual room. We wore the same clothes, so we shared the closest. Ryland picked out a button up and I wore a flannel. After, we both got dressed we went to the bathroom to fix our hair and put finishing touches on our faces. I went downstairs to make breakfast because Ryland could not cook. I made avocado toast and a green juice. Very healthy. Our kitten, Poof, tried to eat it. He always tried to eat everything he could find. Naughty. Ryland locked him up in his cage (which is suppose to be for a big dog). We walked out of our front door and headed to our garage. Our mailbox was open. Strange, the mail usually comes at noon, it was only nine in the morning. Inside was and old looking piece of paper. 

Dear Ricky and Ryland, 

We are part of a secret society and save this nation you live in. We are not part of the government. And technically do not exist. Both of you, we need your help. Go in your garden and find your next clue.

-?

We head to our garden and open the gates. There were arrows pointing us the way. Ryland noticed a patch of grass was missing under the tree. We have to dig. We just got our nails done and we both hate dirt. I will dig because I want to be sweet. About a few feet down there was an old wooden box. Inside was another note and two IDs. The IDs had our picture, but not our names.

You found it. Must be easy. We had to place arrows because of how large your garden is. How much money do you have? Never mind that. You both have new names. Ricky as John Smicket and Ryland as Ash Dasher. Do not tell anyone what your real names are. If you dig a little deeper, you will find another box with a cell phone. It has my number on it and I will text you coordinates to your location to meet me. Do not contact me, I will contact you.

-?

"I think we should get the police," I said worryingly. 

"I will protect you and I have never let anything happen to you before. Do you trust me," he said while pulling me into a comforting hug and kissing my forehead.

"Thank You," I said as we were walking back to our car.

Ryland had to drive because I was shaking. About an hour or so later Ryland woke me up. We were in the middle of nowhere and the only thing around was an old warehouse. Apparently, I had fallen into an uneasy sleep. Ryland notices my tear streaked faced. I think I was crying in my sleep. 

As he kisses my cheek he says, "You are all right. I am right here. There is no need to be scared. I hate to see you like this."

"I know, I am just scared," I said pulling him into a tight hug.

"You will be safe and just remember I have you," he said softly. 

Just then, a man walked over. He knocked on my window making me jump. Ryland looked at me and gave me a calming look. He opened the window enough for us to hear what he is saying. 

"You made it. I thought you were not coming, but here you are. Follow me inside, I want to show you something," he said in the creepiest voice. 

I shoot Ryland a worrying look and he kisses my cheek and tells me not to worry. He gets out of the car first and walks around to open my door. He takes my hand and guides me toward the warehouse. Inside there was an open room with a map in the middle and doors leading else where. Ryland walks me down a set of metal stairs into the room with the map. We are told to take a seat and listen.

"We need to show you something, Ricky," one of the men said.

Ryland steps in and says, "I stay with him and whatever he sees, I see."

Sounding irritated the other man says, "Sir, I do not know if we are allowed to do that."

Pulling all my strength I say, "No, if you want me here, he is not leaving my side."

"Fine," the man said.

The men were not happy with this decision, but Ryland stays with me. I am glad he stood up and said something. I would not be able to do that. Now, the men were showing us a bunch of photos and statistics. None of them were really interesting. After, about an hour we both stood up to leave.

"We really do not want to be a part of this. We are both sorry that we can not help, but we have dinner plans," Ryland says, laying our fake IDs on the table.

He takes my hand again and we walk up to the front door. As we begin to walk to our car, one of the men run up to us. He was just begging us to stay and help them. I stepped in and said that we have plans and we do not want to get involved. We walked quicker to the car. Ryland opened my door and then ran to his side to open his. We got in and drove off. In the car, we were both silent for half of the drive. We also look terrible, so we have to go home before going to dinner. Once home, we opened the door and took our kitten out of his cage. Then, we went upstairs to get dressed and to fix up everything. We both put on button ups, fixed our hair, and fixed our faces. 

"Sorry, I did not mean to get you into that. I thought we would be helping someone or at least doing something that mattered," Ryland said, sounding sad.

"No, it is fine. You were trying to do good. No more worrying about that we have plans to do and food to eat. Thank you for protecting me," I said with a tone to comfort him.

"I said I would no matter what. I love you," he said.

"I love you too"

We locked Poof back up and went outside. The restaurant was not far from here so we decided to walk. He took my hand and led me down the street. This restaurant was so cute. We were seated outside and surrounded by twinkling fairy lights. Our food was absolutely amazing. In the middle of dinner, I heard something. And Ryland knew something was wrong because of the expression on my face.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"I...I heard something from behind me."

"What was it?" he asked

"Someone said that they would not leave us and they needed us," I said with a tremble in voice.

"Ricky, come sit next to me. I will protect you," he said patting the chair next to him.

I slide over and rested my head on his shoulder. I was scared for the both of us. To the point where I was shaking. Ryland could feel that I was shaking and he suggested that we should leave. We put the money on the table, he took my hand and we left the restaurant to walk back home. At home we decided to watch a movie on the sofa. We snuggled up on the sofa under large blanket and watched a good movie. After the movie, I already fell asleep on the couch. Ryland woke me up and we both went to bed. In the morning, there was a note on our outside doorstep.

I told both of you we need you guys to help us. Instead you leave and go to dinner. This is your last chance before we start taking actions. Go back to the place you went before. Trust me we are watching.

-?

As I finished reading this, I fell backwards and hit my head on the table. Ryland freaked out and ran over to me. Honestly, that was a little dramatic of him, but it was also extremely sweet. He told me to sit on the sofa and he would get me a cup of tea. He also came back in with an bag full of ice and some paper towels. He handed me the tea and started to clean the cut on my head. After he clean it, he put the ice on my head and told me to lay down. 

"Ryland, I told you I am fine. Also, how am I going to drink he tea while lying down?"

"Ricky, you fell and hit your head. I am going to call the police because this is getting serious. I will not leave your side and this will all be solved soon," he said while placing a soft kiss on my cheek. 

He grabbed his phone and called the police. They were here in five minutes. They knew something we didn't. Ryland let the police in because he would not let me get up. They were brought in the living room (where I was) to talk to us both. Ryland brought in all the notes and the photo he managed to take of the man and his coworkers. The police gave me an odd look and Ryland caught them starring. He quickly explained.

"Ricky is on the couch because he fell back and hit his head while reading the latest letter from the people I was telling you about."

Ricky handed the letters, the cell phone with the mystery man's number, and the picture he had taken to the police officer. He gave them a quick glance and put them in his case. We also told them about the place we went and the coordinates. They said they would have to examine them back at their building and they would station a few officers at our house. After a little more talking, all but three of the officers left. One was stationed in front of the house, one in the back of the house, and one to stay with us. That is going to be a little weird having a strange man follow you and your boyfriend around your home. Ryland snuggled up with me on the sofa and we watched a film. The officer was also enjoying the film. We made sure he felt like he was at home. After the movie, I was so tired and we decided to go to bed. We told the officer we had a guest room if he would like to sleep, but he decided on sitting by our bedroom door instead. We would not allow him inside, but we had to keep the door open. That is really creepy having someone watch you sleep. I fell asleep right away and so did Ryland. About three in the morning I woke with a terrible nightmare. I could tell I was crying and I needed to make sure stay quiet so I do not wake Ryland. Too late. He heard me and sat up next to me.

"You okay?" he said still half asleep.

"Yeah, just a dream"

"A really bad one from the looks of it. You are crying," he said kissing me. 

"I know, I am sorry for waking you."

"I prefer if you did wake me."

We decided we could not sleep, so we got dressed and went downstairs. The officer followed. He was giving us questioning looks. Ryland explained my nightmare and that we were going on a walk to try and calm down. One of the officers came to join the one that was already with us. The other had to stay behind to watch the house. One in front of us, one behind us, and both us in the middle holding hands. We walked up and down the street talking to each other and getting strange looks from the officers. We did not care, we were having fun. We walked for another hour and by the time we were done it was five in the morning. We were back at our home and we were both tired. The officer went back outside and the other went inside with us. Ryland told me to try and not have nightmares. He told me that he was here and when he was here I was safe. I feel asleep in his arms and I woke the next morning to him cooking in the kitchen. He can barely cook, so he had recipes pulled up on his laptop. This made me giggle because the kitchen was a complete mess. I walked up behind and hugged his waist. It made him jump at first, then a smile appeared on his face. 

"Good Morning, I let you sleep in and I thought it would be nice to cook for you."

"I thought you could not cook," I said teasing him.

Looking at his laptop he said, "That is why I have this."

We both laughed for a few minutes and I asked if I could help him cook. He said instead of cooking, I should get dressed and pick an outfit for him. I went up into our closet and picked white t-shirts, black jeans, and a cute grey jacket. I put on mine and laid his on our bed. I grabbed my phone from the side table next to our bed and turned it on. One message from an unknown number.

I told you to stop fooling around. We need you to help us. There will be consequences, if you do not show. Trust me, we are everywhere and you my not know it.

-?

I dropped my phone and sat on the bed. Ryland came up to change into his outfit and saw my phone on the floor. He picked it up and read the message, then handed it to the officer and closed our door. He sat on the bed next to me and wrapped his arm around my shoulder.

"Ryland, he has my number. How did he get it?" I said so confused.

"I have no idea, but I am so sorry I dragged you into this."

"No, it is fine. I went along with it. Did I crack my phone?'

"Yeah, really bad."

I began to cry, I was scared for my life. He knew us and he watched us. No matter where I was, I was not safe. Ryland took me downstairs for breakfast, which was french toast and orange juice. We talked about his cooking and everything else when there was a knock at our door. The officer told us to stay here and he would answer. It was the police chief coming to tell us about the men.

"These men are criminals that escaped from prison. Not all of them, but most of them have been convicted. They called themselves The Men of Letters."

I was unable to say anything, so Ryland stepped in, "Any other information that could help us get them. Ricky seems to be terrified for his life and I was not sure if he can handle any more of this."

"Yes, we do. We are sending some of our best men in to extract them. This will all be over soon."

"Thank you, for helping us," Ryland said, placing a hand on my leg.

The chief told when they were doing it and they would call us when it was all over. After he left, I just wanted to be alone. I excused myself and went upstairs and layed on my bed. Hiding underneath the blankets. Maybe thirty minutes later, I heard the door open. Ryland was here, I did not even have to check. I felt him sit down and place his hand on my leg. I slowly removed the blanket to see him sitting there. 

"Sorry, everything was so overwhelming. I just wanted to get out of there and be in silence for a little bit."

"That's alright. I just got a call saying they got the people, The Men in Letters. You are safe now. There is nothing to worry about. I have a surprise planned out for tomorrow."

"Cannot wait," I said very joyfully.

In the morning, I woke with our bags packed and plan tickets to a tropical place. He planned a surprise trip for our anniversary. Ryland was in the kitchen talking to the cat sitter who will be taking Poof while we are away. She left as I was coming downstairs. He also made breakfast. I kissed him gently on the cheek and thanked him for all he has done this past week. After eating, we basically shut down the house and before we left Ryland had to run back upstairs because he forgot something. We drove to the airport and had a four hour flight. The hotel room was amazing and had a huge balcony. Ryland went out to look at the balcony and I came out five minutes later. And he was on one knee proposing. I said yes and we enjoyed the rest of that day. Later that night I found a piece of paper under my shoe.

Thanks for getting rid of my problems.

-?

Dear You:

Remember the orchid you bought me for my birthday?

Well, I killed it.

Not on purpose.  As a matter of fact, I tried everything I could to keep it alive.

Just like I did with our relationship.

I watered that orchid, but then it started to shed its petals.

So I stopped watering it for a little while.

I let it soak up sun and fresh air, but then its broad leaves started to yellow.

So I left it in the shade of my bookshelf.

I stopped smoking cigarettes inside. I rotated its pot.

But it continued to wither.

I looked up how to tend to this plant, how to help it thrive indoors.

Maybe I didn't research enough.

I babied it, but it didn't perk up, so I gave it some space.

I stopped touching it, instead I talked to it.

But still that birthday gift perished.

The death of that orchid made me realize that, sometimes, the more you try to care for something, the more likely it is to extinguish itself to escape the oppression of someone's concern.

Just like we did.

I've thought about what I've wanted to tell you for three years now, but I can't say that I've figured it out yet.

Yet here I am, trying. 

You think I would have learned to give up by now, but here I am persisting.

Since you gave me that orchid, I've tried to nurture other plants--most of them heartier than the one you gifted me.

I was too preoccupied trying to keep that one alive that the rest have either perished or thrived---thrived because I gave them up to someone else's care.

But I think I'm finally learning.

A few days ago, I upturned that special pot you nestled the orchid into last September.

For months its drying skeleton sat perched atop a stack of books--a constant reminder of my perceived failure: my failure of us, my failure of that once beautiful blooming organism.

In doing so, I discovered roots bound and rotted.  How long they had suffered that way is hard to tell.  

In doing so, I finally discovered that I may not have been to blame.

Maybe it was bought that way--flawed and destined for an early death by design.

Maybe you nor I had anything to do with our ceasing to be.

Maybe we just had to cease.

Regardless, I carry our history in my heart, but it's starting to weigh less with every moment that passes.

I carry it with me as I carefully water and rotate the growing bulb I planted in a freshly prepared pot.  I carry it with me so I know how to keep thriving. So I know what to do and what not to do, and how often.

I'll love you long after that orchid's marrow rots into the ground.

And afterwards, I'll still be grateful that, at one point in our discourse, you saw the beauty of that exotic plant fit to share with me.

Yours In Bloom,

Me

Dear Food Industry,

So, what's up with these foods with letters in them? I absolutely cannot STAND soup, so I've never had 'Alphabet' soup, but the cereal? Alpha-Bits? Now, that's the shit, right there. And I keep getting bowl after bowl, so I can see all the words I can spell out. Like, I love to spell out the time of day; I mean, if I'm eating in the a.m, I try to spell "morning" and if I'm eating in the p.m, it's "afternoon" or "evening" or "night". I've eaten so much damn cereal, I'm nearly big as a h-o-u-s-e, now...See there? See what I did? I just HAD to spell out a word and it's all your damn fault. And as if spelling out actual w-o-r-d-s isn’t bad enough, I’ve now found myself trying to do the whole alphabet. And I have yet to do it. The furthest I’ve gotten is to the letter “N”. How the fuck can you call yourself “Alpha-Bits” when you’re missing some of the bits? I just don’t get it.

And heaven forbid, it’s a day or evening or night when I want to make a whole sentence…Actually, I kind of like that, but then the whole bowl is soggy, by the time I get done and that is not good. My greatest fear is that I’ll empty a whole box at once cuz I’m trying to write an actual story. I imagine it’ll be doubly-hard since there are some bits – or should that be “bets”? – that are always missing.

And worst of all? Now I'm a criminal! I'm a damn cereal-killer.

I hope you rot in hell,

- Unhappy Serial-Eater.

Dear Future Self,

What I want to say to start this off is I am so proud of you... me... us. I wrote this letter a few years ago, then locked it up, never to be opened till now... so if you're reading this, it means you kept your promise of life. "8 years of pain, then 70 of happiness," as Claire would always say.

You're 19 now; an adult. A grown up, yet still a teenager. Wise, yet still youthful. Experienced, yet still Seeking Adventure. Mature, yet still blossoming into the amazing woman you've still yet to become.

I wrote this letter just because at my age now, something like this would've been lovely to have something like this to keep as a promise that somebody cares. Even if it's just your younger self. I care. So much. I know you're going to do amazing things. All you have to do is get through college. Find what your passionate about and go for it. Even if it's something crazy. Even if it leads you to clown college. I'll be happy as long as you're happy. Well I kinda have to be since we're the same person...

Here are a few things I wish I would've known at my age now, that will make things so much better:

•it's okay to fall apart- even superheroes need to cry sometime.

•don't do drugs- we're going to need that body in great shape if we're going to be a superhero and save and change peoples lives one day

•boys don't matter- it may feel like they do but they only get in the way, the only people you need is you, and Jesus.

•it's okay to wait- waiting doesn't make you a loser. It makes you whole, so you can give your whole heart to the man you love, and not just what's left of it from other guys taking a part of it with them when they leave.

•you're beautiful- no, don't go look in the mirror and wonder how I think you're beautiful, you're beautiful on the inside. Caring, compassionate, intelligent, and wise, and that makes you beautiful on the outside as well.

•make sure you love yourself before you love someone else- you will never fully love them until you're okay with yourself. Plus people don't always last forever, you will be with yourself for eternity

•don't change for anyone- you are you, one of a kind. No ones like you, why would you change to be someone else? Not only are you taking away the opportunity of being one of a kind to yourself, but also the person you're trying to be. If someone wants you to change- unless it's for the good- they're not worth having in your life anyway

Please follow those, they'll make out life better. Easy maybe... well if life can ever be easy.

I want to watch our crumbled up piece of paper that is our life unfold into a beautiful origami swan that is our future. Don't do anything you can't take back, that you'll regret. You do matter, you're the apple to somebody's eye, the yin to her yang, you're the person someone wants to wake up next to for the rest of their life. So think. Turn that beautiful brain of yours on, don't ever turn it off again, and think before doing, just like you look before crossing the road. Don't give up just yet (or ever actually) because things will get better. Life is tough my dear, but so are you. So go kick some butt. GoodLuck on our life.

-14 year old you

     I've written to you before you began.  I started writing just to journal.  My desire to be a mother was so great.  And, I wanted you to never doubt how much you were wanted, cherished.  I knew, as my mother's daughter, I wouldn't always be good at showing you love.  I suspected, like my mother, I would seek space between us sometimes.  As you pulled closer, I imagined history would repeat itself, and I- the mother- would pull away.  It was genetics.  Still, I wanted you to know what I was certain I wouldn't be able to show.  So, I wrote.

     I wrote about desperately wanting a child.  I wrote about a time, as a young adult, I went to the beach with my best friend and her first child.  This was a friend I'd had since college.  We were wild together.  We did things I hope you never will.  But, you will.  It's genetics.  Her toddler daughter was playing in the sand.  She was gorgeous!  Her brown curls escaped beneath her sun hat.  I regarded her sun-kissed cheeks, the folds of her chubby legs, and I ached.  So, I wrote more.

     I have written to you since I dreamed of you.  I have written to you since I longed for you. I have written to you since I learned my fallopian tubes were blocked by scar tissue from my many surgeries related to a brain injury.  I have written to you when I learned that an egg doctors had extracted from me was fertilized, by my husband's sperm, in a petrie dish. I have written to you while self injections made my womb an optimal home for you.  

     And, every day I was pregnant with you, I wrote.  Every day.  Just a little.  I wrote to let you know you were, you ARE, my everything.  And now, fourteen years later, I still write.  Though not nearly as often, on your birthday, Mother's Day, Christmas, I write to you.  As much as you drive me crazy.  As much as I KNOW life can be hard.  I want you to have proof, in black and white, that you are my every BREATH.  I love you!!

Dear Eliza,

I can't wait to see you after the war. They still haven't allowed me to take a combat role, but I'm sure you're glad to hear that. I know that you worry, but I want to serve my country, love. You are so strong for doing all that you are back home, and that's what I love about you. I'm sure the Axis can't keep up the fight for much longer. And I've been hearing fellow soldiers discuss the idea of an atomic bomb on the Japanese. It won't be long now. I'll see you when I'm back.

Love, Cecilia

---

Dear Matsuko,

The fight still continues, and we are fighting as strong as we ever have. But I write now to tell you that I am currently in the infirmary. I crashed into an American plane and we both went down. The pilot of the American plane was a woman. She reminded me of you. I know people must die in war, but it's unfortunate. She had a letter, to someone named Eliza. Out of sorrow I took the letter. The address is written on it. In the military I have no way to get it to her. I can't mail to the United States from here. I think she deserves to read it. Enclosed with this is that letter. I'm sure you'd agree when I say it would be nice if you could mail it to her. Thank you, my dearest. I love you and I will see you when I'm home.

Love, Takeshi

I'm writing this to you only because you're the only person I can talk to who won't judge me or my situations without careful thought. I rely on you as an outlet to all of my internal pain that I keep bottled in. I know I shouldn't do that. That's why you're reading this now. Please make sure that this stays purely between us, even if you do want to tell someone. But that would jeopardize too much for my family. I can't have that.

Even though I'll be smiling and joking around tomorrow at school, that's just the facade I'll be forcing out. On the inside, I'm an extremely sad person with more negative thoughts about myself than positive. I feel like I'm a waste of talent, a horrible sister, and an awful daughter. I wake up wishing that I can just go back to sleep because I feel that, while awake, I'll ruin someone's life today. I am afraid of failure and being alone; both of those things have shaped me into the person who I am today. You'll learn about this person now.

Tonight, I accidentally clogged a toilet in the house, resulting in a flood. My Dad (who you know has been ignoring me for the past week) continued to ignore me when I came to him for help. Then he yelled at me to get the fuck away from him; to stop annoying him. That's another fear of mine-- I'm afraid of annoying people because then I'll push them away and I'll be alone.

I turned off the water, stopped the leak, cleaned whatever flooded on both floors. But the drywall separating the bathroom and the basement collapsed. That costs money. And there's water damage. More money. My mistake resulted in the tensions in the house to rise drastically and for Dad to send Mom a text that greatly offended her. Why did he do that? Because when he's angry at something, he's angry at the entire world.

Mom came home enraged. She had me come upstairs to where Dad and my little brother were and broke down in tears. Leaving work early resulted in her getting a probation notice, something that may greatly risk her ability to graduate doctorate school in three months. All of those five years would have been wasted. She seemed to make it very clear that her stress was solely on me.

Dad called me pathetic and stupid and dumb. To him, I'm those things, plus a dyke, a loser, trash, a waste of time and more awful things that fester in my mind 24/7. I deserve those remarks. I deserve the times he's hit me and the times where I've feared for my life. I deserve Mom's tears and how unhappy I've made her. I deserve knowing the fact that I've ruined this family and that it'll never be the same again.

Which leads back to me. What role do I play? How do I feel? Where will this go?

(This part is the hardest to admit. Please don't tell anyone what I say.)

I think about killing myself everyday. I think that, if I died, my family will be happier. There would be no yelling, stress, or agony. There would be no wars in the house between members. There would be no more passing the blame or sadness. Dad would feel more fulfilled with his life. Mom would graduate and be happy.

Trust me when I say that I do believe suicide is selfish and wrong. And I know that people will hurt if I left, so that's why I haven't done anything stupid. I'm not stupid. I'm not selfish. I'm afraid of being associated with those things. Things that Dad has said to be with no shame or regrets.

But today I stared at the pills in the medicine cabinet and wondered how long it would take before I passed. I wondered if my parents would come downstairs in time to see my body and call an ambulance. I wonder that, if they knew how I truly felt, then we'd be closer. They'd know I'm dedicated to fixing us. They'd know I want them to be happy. They'd know that I'd sacrifice anything just to make things right.

I keep my thoughts and feelings bottled up. I put a smile on my face whenever I walk out the door. As if everything's okay. As if I'm happy. But it's not. I'm not.

I don't talk about my problems because problems have negative connotation which leads to stress. So I'm sorry if I'm stressing you. Trust me when I say that I have no plans of doing anything stupid. I just need to talk sometimes. Something I can't keep what's bothering me inward. But I don't keep a diary because then I'll just go back and reread my earlier entries and feel sad all over again because I'm so blue.

Then sometimes I think that my problems are stupid. There's kids starving in Failed States or in cities just like this one. Kids in Syria are shooting people because they're so desperate to survive. Kids are actually being abused and torn up. People are sick with diseases that they can't cute. Why should I feel and think the way I do when I could be living in a far worse situation? Why am I so selfish and unaccountable for the things I do and say? Why do I do things that make my parents upset or disappointed? What's wrong with me?

I wish I had the answers to these questions. But that's why I'm writing to you, hoping for some insight from an outsider. Maybe you, the person who knows me so well, can tell me what you understand and what you've comprehended from my confession. Just remember that I am one of three people with my own side of the story to tell. My side might even be wrong. Be as unbiased as possible. And please don't think that my parents are awful people.

If anything, I want my parents to know that I love them so much. But I wish they'd realize that I have feelings, too. Even I get sad. Even I get angry. I was disappointed when no one came to the musical to see how hard me and my teammates worked. I get upset when they unintentionally undervalue my feelings.

If my feelings were an object, I'd be a kitchen sink. I drain. I spray. I flood. I dirty. I clean. But not everyone understands that it's not always good to dump garbage down the disposal. Sometimes I just want to be rinsed out and taken care of.

If you read this far without crying, kudos. I felt rather emotional writing this myself. Again, don't tell anyone what I said. And, considering how this is a letter, you can write back if you want to. Just don't say your response out loud if you have one. Thanks so much for taking this time to read this. I hope I didn't upset or annoy you with my bullshit lol.

With thanks,

_______________

©SelfTitled, 2017

To the one that got away,

I cannot put into right words how painful it is to think that you are not mine anymore. Those hopes and dreams with you are gone and it’s crushing my heart. I have to let go of that part of me, the part wherein you belong. Do not worry. I’ll be fine. I still have the dreams you’ve heard and known in me. I vow that I will achieve them even though you will not be by my side when I do. You will no longer be a part of them, a sad reality that I should have accepted a long time ago.

I apologize for being reckless and selfish. At some point, I could have done some things that you have always wish for me to do. Maybe that could have made you stay put. I was so overwhelmed by your love that I thought you’d still accept the mess that I was. I was wrong. I forgot that people change. They get tired as well. I admit that I didn’t see the changes coming. Forgive me for the things I have done that made you mad and sad, the things that had hurt you. And for the things you asked for me to do that I did not accomplish.

I miss you. I miss how you’d gave me butterflies every time you sing to me. I miss how clingy you were, checking up on me almost every second, no exaggeration needed because that’s the truth. I miss everything about you. I miss how you loved and treasured me. I miss the old you. And the old "us" as well.

I am not angry. I am hurt but not mad. I loved you, I love you still, but not the selfish kind of love, not like the love I had for you when we were still together. It is something that I can not properly or beautifully articulate into words. Only my heart knows what kind of love it is. I will never forget the memories we created and the lessons you have taught me.

I know you are happy at this time. I wish you even more happiness in the future. Someday, you’ll meet the person you have always wish to see in me. She will be gentle and kind. She will be your greatest fan every step of becoming who you really wanted to be. I had that chance but let it slip away from my hand. I might even dare to call it the biggest regret I have ever had.

Maybe one day we will run into each other. Maybe then we would be mature enough to handle such circumstances in a relationship. Maybe then we’ll figure out our mistakes. Maybe we could give it another shot. Maybe. Someday.

Until then, see you whenever the chance falls into our hands.

Always and forever,

Delilah

Dearest Bae (a.k.a. Big Daddy),

I don't tell you often how much I love you, and I am ashamed of that.  So I decided to make it public since this forum offered the opportunity.  I love you! I love you! I love you! You mean the world to me.  I don't feel I could exist without you.  Thanks for being a father to CC and putting up with my shit, and I know it's a lot sometimes.  You are my best friend, soul mate, the best companion I have ever had, hands down, you truly get me. I love that you keep me laughing through it all. You make me so happy, and I only hope I have made you as happy as you have made me. I knew from the moment you said good-bye and how you did it at the bowling alley on our first date that you were a keeper, and I knew the moment that you helped CC off the monkey bars at the playground of Chollas Lake Park that you were a keeper for the 2nd time, and I knew the moment you said I do at our wedding you were a keeper for the 3rd time.  I can go on and on and on, about all the moments of our lives that you remind me how wonderful you are and how fortunate I am to have you in my life as my husband.  The chocolate of your skin doesn't melt away in the heat of my dreams, and everything you touch undoubtedly seems serene, your intellectuality an unwavering stream that leads to rapids that leads to a waterfall and I fall every time from heart to mind to soul when I look into your eyes to see your soul, to feel your soul, touch my own, you are the merger of my thrown, my king, my dream, unfolding, and I'm still holding my keeper to infinity, you are my holy trinity, my divinity, my serenity, you begin with me where I end and become undone.  My heart will never run, you have me until the end and beyond!

Love,

Sugar Biscuits

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