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Letter to self (And to others who've loved and lost)

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LETTER TO SELF:

Look. I know you love him. You love him completely, entirely, so wholly you feel as if you will never stop. You ache to pursue him, to grab onto him and refuse to let him go, to remain within his life, his mind, until something greater than either of you wills otherwise. But this thing does not exist, you say. Nothing is more supreme than that fourteen-day courtship, the star-crossed romance whose truthfulness now resides in question. The sea-fire sparking from his eyes convinces you all is worth the wait: the misery, the self-loathing, the sleepless nights and tears you’ve cried…seems meaningless if the end justifies the pain it took to get you there. Right?

Maybe the end won’t turn out so grand. Ever think of that? Of course you have. It’s your largest fear. He could forget you- and then you would lose the courage My Chemical Romance sings of in ‘Famous Last Words’. He might begin to hate you, resent the ties you throw upon him, how hopelessly you keep his memory close to you. You wear your heart on your sleeve-
Or used to. You gave it to him that contradictory February. Does it still exist? Your heart, I mean. The pulsing organ crushed many times, yet finally shattered…that cruel Thursday afternoon.

I understand. If it’s a matter of certainty, be sure of this- I have gone through precisely the waters you wade through now…and still are. They may grow deep, and perilous, and these waves will only drown you, and I, smother you along with myself, if we allow them to. It’s difficult- oh my God, is it difficult! So impossible parting with the moon…glancing in the opposite direction, and, dramatically, uprooting him from your blackened soul…

You long to loathe him, but yearn to own him…these two, very different desires are almost irreconcilable.

These are years you must live and laugh about- not merely dredge through with depression.

Be bold- wear yellow, sing loudly, and when you feel like playing ‘Secret Agent Man’ in the hallway, well, darnit, go ahead! Don’t dress to impress him, stop trying to bleach your hair, and, most of all…

Love again.

I am here, for I am you. Just look inside yourself to see the strength I know we possess.

Forget the moon. You are no longer the sea, following his every motion.

Be the sun.





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