an open letter I know she'll never read, but need to get out. I might regret this later...
It's already five AM but I can't sleep. I don't know how I'm supposed to.
Too many times in my life I've put my trust where it didn't belong. I believed that you were who you come of as, this little girl who fucks up but always means well. I'm not so sure I can believe that anymore. I've given half my life trying to protect my brother; to calm him down before he punched through walls or cheer him up before he toked up and drove off, to hold his fist when my mother was yelling and hold his hand when my father was leaving.
But to you he was a name on a to-do list, a hollow square to check and move on from. A dark back seat in the parking lot of an elementary school. A conquest. Well, you've won. I hope you're happy with your trophy room. But I know that no matter how many boys you rob of their dignity, you'll never have your own. being a person is about responsibility; knowing who you are and owning whoever that may be. You'll blame this on me, my overreaction, or the alcohol. But none of those make any difference, dear. Perhaps the two of you didn't make out, perhaps my eyes played a rather nasty trick on me. It doesn't excuse the times I've told you I still had feelings for him or the times I begged you to keep your hands off him in my presence because it left me wanting to puke. You still grabbed for his hand. You still spent nights in his bed. You still told a mutual friend you felt as if you were "crossing a line with him", the line you've crossed with so many of the other people I love. And Keith? Well, same story, different characters.
You're probably losing me other loved ones. Ted and Aaron are two of the most genuinely good-natured people I know, but you'll have them too. You'll toy with their feelings until you pit them against one another. You'll have them wrapped so tightly around your little fingers they'll never speak to me again. They'll jump when you say so and tell themselves that you'll leave the others just for them. Like Bouse did. Or Adam. Or my brother. Or Trisha. Or Justin. Or Mario. Or Mattie. Or Cristian. Or Mike Bane. Or the grad student. Or Andrew. Or how many more?
I can only hope that one day they'll wake up to the same realization myself and a few of your boys have had; that they don't deserve this any more and that relationships aren't intended to tear you up inside.
I can only pray you learn, one day, to take a good look at who you were and who you've become. I know, more than anyone, that I have my own problems. But at least I look at the repeating consequences of my repeating mistakes and try to defeat them.
I wish the best for you. I really do. I just wish I had more faith in my prayers for you; this God-fellow doesn't seem to show his face much around here.
Too many times in my life I've put my trust where it didn't belong. I believed that you were who you come of as, this little girl who fucks up but always means well. I'm not so sure I can believe that anymore. I've given half my life trying to protect my brother; to calm him down before he punched through walls or cheer him up before he toked up and drove off, to hold his fist when my mother was yelling and hold his hand when my father was leaving.
But to you he was a name on a to-do list, a hollow square to check and move on from. A dark back seat in the parking lot of an elementary school. A conquest. Well, you've won. I hope you're happy with your trophy room. But I know that no matter how many boys you rob of their dignity, you'll never have your own. being a person is about responsibility; knowing who you are and owning whoever that may be. You'll blame this on me, my overreaction, or the alcohol. But none of those make any difference, dear. Perhaps the two of you didn't make out, perhaps my eyes played a rather nasty trick on me. It doesn't excuse the times I've told you I still had feelings for him or the times I begged you to keep your hands off him in my presence because it left me wanting to puke. You still grabbed for his hand. You still spent nights in his bed. You still told a mutual friend you felt as if you were "crossing a line with him", the line you've crossed with so many of the other people I love. And Keith? Well, same story, different characters.
You're probably losing me other loved ones. Ted and Aaron are two of the most genuinely good-natured people I know, but you'll have them too. You'll toy with their feelings until you pit them against one another. You'll have them wrapped so tightly around your little fingers they'll never speak to me again. They'll jump when you say so and tell themselves that you'll leave the others just for them. Like Bouse did. Or Adam. Or my brother. Or Trisha. Or Justin. Or Mario. Or Mattie. Or Cristian. Or Mike Bane. Or the grad student. Or Andrew. Or how many more?
I can only hope that one day they'll wake up to the same realization myself and a few of your boys have had; that they don't deserve this any more and that relationships aren't intended to tear you up inside.
I can only pray you learn, one day, to take a good look at who you were and who you've become. I know, more than anyone, that I have my own problems. But at least I look at the repeating consequences of my repeating mistakes and try to defeat them.
I wish the best for you. I really do. I just wish I had more faith in my prayers for you; this God-fellow doesn't seem to show his face much around here.