Tuesday, March 10, 2009


The following is a letter I wrote a long time ago to my current boyfriend. At the time I did not feel comfortable posting in LiveJournal as it had been compromised too many times, I couldn't write it down because God knows I live with some of the nosiest people on this earth, so instead I typed it into a word document, locked it with a password and forgot all about it. Until about a month ago. This is why documenting your feelings is important, no matter how insignificant and trivial they may seem at the time. It is so vital to just to be able to look back and say I FELT THIS AND IT MATTERS.

I'm not sure if you'll pick up on my tone, but if I had written this on paper I feel like some of the words would have been scratched and gouged into the paper rather than written:

I want you to hold me like you never want to let me go, like I want to hold you. I remember when you said: “You complete me”. That was then, before you changed your mind. You don’t say anything like that anymore. You know now, that completing yourself with me would just add flaws to your perfection, a taint to your uncorrupted half. Then I was the optimal, now I am sub-prime. Why is it that I can see your flaws, not as mistakes on your character, but as imperfections that make you beautiful? Oh, I was beautiful to you in the beginning, but now I just don’t quite make the cut now do I? So patronizing. I have become a safeguard to a lonely death, an occasional display of amusement, but never your equal. I am fit only to provide entertainment when you desire laughter, food when you are hungry, counsel when you are divided, and, of course, sex when your appetite is whetted. Never is my mind as sound in rationale, my temperament as calm, my words as eloquent, my opinions as valid, or my desire as important as my obviously better half. When was it declared that I was the one who needed to catch up? Who made up the jury that found that it was me whom was lacking? Where was I? I thought we were in this together, I thought that was the point. Why ever pair us together, why ever even create the idea of together if we are to act according to our own priorities and whims? Two people can perform the same action together again and again and again, in perfect sync with each other but if they never understand the other then it as if their performing the action together was coincidental. It’s all happenstance. What if there had been someone else in my place, would they have done just as well if they met your basic requirements? Such carefully chosen expectations will only ensure that those particular expectations will be filled, what if there is more than just what you expect? Is the rest just superfluous? Believe me, I know where I sit in regards to these so-called “expectations” I believe at this moment I am a card carrying “just barely meets the minimum”. Although I could be wrong, I’m not sure as I wasn’t invited to my performance review either. There seems to be a lot I haven’t been invited to lately; family outings, weddings, movies with friends. There’s always the reasons, always the goddamned considerate, perfectly rational, fucking obvious reasons. I’m not invited to the family outing because it would be inconsiderate to expect me to take time off my precious, boring as fuck job. I’m of course always invited to the movies, it’s just one of those invitations that are never extended but anyone with a bit of sense would just know that they are of course invited. And I’m not invited to the wedding because they don’t know me, although I did think that when the marrying couple is a cousin that lives across the country this could be overlooked as really it’s just as much their fault for not coming to meet me. So conclusively, I am an idiot who loves my boring as fuck job and I just don’t know the right people. How charming. Oh, but let me tell you all those feelings of being left out go right out the window when I hear the “why didn’t you come?” after every event that I was supposedly previously engaged not to attend or supposedly not invited. Now what? Do I make you look like an idiot and tell them why I wasn’t there? Oh I’ve tried that: “Well I could have sworn you told me...” “If you weren’t so confusing...” “I thought your studies needed more attending to...”. So now I just keep my fucking mouth shut and let you follow whatever bullshit reasoning you want until you absolve whatever little doubt there could be in your mind that you could have done anything ANYTHING wrong. ANY-FUCKING-THING. It amazes me constantly how you can manipulate absolutely anything and everything to match perfectly with your ideal reality and I am the one who is ridiculous. I am the frustration of your life. I am a daily pain in the ass, needy, whining, estrogen fuelled ball of constant PMS who must always interrupt everything you love and hold dear: studying, watering plants, organizing old fiscal reports, and of course fantasy hockey teams. Hey, why don’t you love and hold me dear once in a fucking while? Because it doesn’t fit into your schedule. And that is why not a single little bit of any of my ranting or raving holds any importance or consequence, I just don’t fit. I do not go according to plan, I will not go according to plan, because the plan does not include me. I was added in sometime after it was already drawn up, reviewed, dated and signed. I am an addendum, an unforeseen clause that makes the whole thing null and void. I am something that inevitably will need to be crossed out and stricken from the record. It hurts. Not being crossed off, that I can take, it’s the cold, methodical way that you will do it that will really kill me. Like the writing on the contract, there is no depth to anything that you feel for me, no discernable texture or dimension. I can’t understand such an intangible emotion. You shouldn’t be able to put it down on paper or form it into a concise idea. It shouldn’t make sense. All I wanted was someone to understand the joke with me, to know my subtleties and challenge my beliefs. I want someone who knows my flaws, but can also accept my greatness.


I need someone

who understands,

that there’s a voice

inside my head,

that sometimes says:


Just die already.

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