A love letter

Dear love. Yes, I’m calling you that, even though I know you don’t like it, because this is for me, and that’s what you are to me. You are my love, my lover. I fell for you, fell hard. And I love it, that feeling, because it is right. You are mine and I am yours. Even though you don’t want me and you don’t want this. It is still true. We met, and around and outside and through and within all of the fear and pain and solitude and old wounds and tough exterior and sensitive surface, we touched each other. The parts of us that recognized and said “yes” to each other, they just went straight through all of that armour and protection and rejection, and they touched and danced together for a little while.

In my heart we are dancing still. Still embracing.

That little part of you that dared to hope, and dared to care. That’s mine. I’m keeping it for you. You might never want it back. But it is real, and it happened. Yes, it was just a bit of fun, was never supposed to be serious, nobody was supposed to fall in love. All of that is true. But this is true too, in the middle of that, we touched, really touched. That can never be undone. You might try to forget it. But it is in you, like it is in me.

But that’s not what I wanted to say. Meeting you, I was found, finally found. You did that for me, and I can never be as lost as I was, because, once, you found me. And if you got scared and couldn’t keep me or didn’t want me, couldn’t find a way to beat back the demons and hold me as well – still, it happened, I was found, and truly seen, for that little while, for the first time in my life. And I can never be as lost again. You changed me, and changed the world for me. Is that a burden? It shouldn’t be, it was a gift.

But you, you are still lost, although I found you too. It will take a long time for you to trust that, maybe longer than you are willing to stick around for. So you might never really know it, not believe it and live it, although it has happened, is happening right now. I found you, I am here right now, tonight. One day I hope you can know what it was, let it into your heart. It’s my gift to you. It’s not the way you thought it would happen, if you thought it would ever happen. But here I am. Aside and around and through all my weakness and pain and weirdness – here I am. Look at me, really look. Not what you wanted, not what you expected? But here I am, I’m what you got. You think that there’s a choice, a conflict, and you have chosen to let me go. But there is no choice really, no conflict. You still have me. You can leave that drawer shut and never look in it, if you prefer it that way. But you have me, I am there. And I have you. We are part of each other.

Is it easier, leaving that drawer shut, letting me go, not dealing with all the turmoil I raised? It feels that way. Easier, calmer, less challenging. Only it’s not, not really. It’s a fragile peace, and it will keep breaking. The calm won’t last, and the anxiety will keep coming back, and once you’ve pushed me away as far as you can, buried that joining we had as deep as you can, and still it’s not enough to bring you peace – what then? You can’t run away from yourself. One day, maybe, you’ll realise that, and come back to yourself, all the parts of yourself, and open that drawer. I will still be there, and I will open my arms to you, and receive you with love.

I want that healing for you, with or without me, as much as I’ve wanted anything in my life. Not so you’ll “come to your senses” and come back to me, you may never, probably will never, I know that. I want it for you, because you are precious to me and you are part of me, and your happiness is something I want more than my own.

You have me in your hand. Nothing is ruined, nothing is lost. We are still here, you and me. You can use that to help you heal, you can deny it, it’s your choice. Your life.

In the days between, the other days, I will love and be loved and be happy and sad, and interested and bored. I’m not waiting for you. Life is to be lived. But there’s no need to wait for you. You are in me. We met, and touched, in a moment outside of time, and in that moment we are still touching, soul to soul. You looked into my eyes, you breathed into my mouth, you cried on my shoulder, you slept in my arms. And then the fear and the anxiety took us away from each other again. But because of that moment I am yours always.

And now I see your pain and your struggle, old old wounds that keep reopening, old demons that never leave. I hear your denials and rationalizations and assertions, you are fine, you will survive. It’s OK. But I have seen you, seen right into you, seen the pain in you, and it’s not OK. Because it’s all you’ve known you think it’s all there is. It’s not. There is another way, yes, for you too.

I want that healing for you so much. You need it. The world will change colour when it happens, you will be ashamed that you were in the grip of the demons for so long. You want to deny that it can happen because if it can happen, how can you excuse yourself for not making it happen sooner, how can you forgive yourself for all of the self-inflicted, avoidable suffering? Well, you choose – embarrassment, or agony? What can you live with? You have the strength to live with the agony, yes, but it’s still the wrong choice. Embarrass yourself. Feel a little ashamed. Laugh about it. And live.

So you wander lost, my love, and you think you have lightened your burden for the long road ahead by leaving me behind. But I was never the burden, and in turning away from me you also turned off the path ahead, and now you are lost. No, I’m not your destiny, or the only path you can follow. I’m an accident, a detour. But now you have me, the world has changed, and you can’t really leave me behind. You can try to bury me with the rest of the junk that you think you have left behind, but is really tied to your belt and is bumping along behind you. You can let me out of that sack, remove me from the tally of the things you have to carry, and let me carry some for you. Or if you still need to punish yourself enough that you must carry me, let me sit on your shoulder and tell you jokes.

You hate yourself, but what you have in this life is you. And you are as beautiful and marvellous a thing, with all your flaws and complexities and weaknesses, as any ocean wave, any mountain, any star. You can’t see, so let me see it for you. That’s the part of you that belongs to me, that part that can see your own beauty.

My dear sweet love, my soul: sleep peacefully, breathe in healing and breathe out fear. And believe that you are loved, and loved with good reason.


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