Creative Writing · Depression · Free Write · Letter · Melancholy · Personal · Pondering · Prose · Reflection · Writing

Lost in the Supermarket

I visit often, mostly just to see you. Sometimes I feel we have a connection. Other times I am unsure if it’s just politeness. I have been hurt a million times and my heart is fragile. Mostly I am okay. I sleep alone. I eat alone. I feel okay on my own. But it’s been two years for me and I miss having a man’s arms around me and feeling enclosed, inside of another. I miss having someone to look forward to. Someone to share life with. Laugh with.

I see you and think, you could be that person. I am not often attracted to others but I feel strangely drawn to you. When we speak, I want to keep talking. To ask you questions about life and death and the universe.  Find out why you love Deftones so much and how I lost my virginity to White Pony. I think if you cared, if you were interested, you would have inquired by now. I have presented ample opportunity for it.


So here I sit writing to no one, or possibly the entire world. I think there is not one for me but that hopeful piece asks, maybe? Still do I wonder at your mysterious aura. I think about you as I walk away to my car again. I like to imagine you looking back or at least wanting to, and maybe even you wonder of me too…


More likely we will continue to pass each other in this market. Red shirt and a basket in my hand. I will smile and you will smile but go on in our own ways.


“I’m all lost in the supermarket
I can no longer shop happily
I came in here for that special offer
A guaranteed personality”

—-name that band

Free Write · Letter · Personal · Poetry · Writing

Free Write Tonight

It doesn’t take much         

The right kind of thought 

In any moment

I’m looking at graduation photos and dreaming of days soon to pass

All I can think is


I wish you were here


I know that you would be proud


I can imagine your smile and your laugh

Looking at me


I wish that I could wrap my arms around you again

I wish that our last year together could be redone


If I had been brave enough

Strong enough…


I hope that you remember me for other times


I look back at photos and I can see your sickness

Apparent

Still I was not fully


I hope you know I keep you

Everywhere I take me


I remember this pain

I remember your heartache

I remember to love

Free Write · Letter · Personal · Prose

Goodbye

You continue to call, I am not answering because I do not want to speak to you. A part of me would love to be your friend but you are toxic to me and my mental health. 

More than anything, I wish this wasn’t true. I wish we could be in love like in my head I always believed that we were. But as it turns out that was never true.  You left me, humiliated me and even after all this time, still feel like it’s okay to pick me up and drop me when and wherever you want . 

This is not alright. I am worth more than that. I am above all of this and I can not even believe I let you treat me so terribly. So here I am. I am telling you no. No more ever. I care about you and I want you to get help but I realize now I can not be a part of that process. I can not speak to you anymore. It’s not healthy for me. I am finally, for the first time in 8 years, putting myself before you. I have to. I got shit to do and places to be. 

Telling you all this makes me sad but I am more sad when I am with you. Your life is worth saving but you have to do it without me. 

Broken Up · Free Write · Letter · Personal · Prose · Relationships · Writing

Letter To “The Other Woman”

To The Other Woman,

You knew who I was, I think that’s what bothered me most. I know, I know, everyone tells me to blame the man, but I expected that from him. You, not so much.

You knew who I was and that we were together. You didn’t care.


I used to wonder why you married that asshole. The one that fucked everything that walked and had a vagina. I thought, you seemed so nice.Why would you be okay with that?

I was at your wedding. There are pictures of us arm in arm. We were not that close, so I wondered where all of your friends were. I only saw people from work and I assumed  family. I found this odd. So why? Why were things like this?


Did it make you feel better?

Did it make you feel justified?


I know you remember the day I confronted you in the car, please know I would do that again, but your chicken shit boyfriend did his best to keep me from ever seeing you again. And you apparently didn’t have the guts to face me either.


I assume he made me, and probably my family, out to be an enemy. People that did not care. People that indulged his addictions and were not actively trying to get him help. You must have known so much better. Did you fancy yourself his savior, with your education in psychology and coming from a “good family?”


I used to think that loving someone would be enough. I loved him and every single of his flaws. I loved him even in the depths of his sickness. I knew I could not change him. So I didn’t try. I wanted him to do it on his own. Turns out he needed more of a mommy, so he found one.


Congratulations. It’s a boy.


I hope you two are happy together. Because clearly from his multiple hospitalizations and relapses on heroin it must be going great. All part of the process you say?

All the things he is doing and saying with you were already done with me.


Him begging, “Please don’t give up on me. I’ll be good. I’m getting better. I’m going to do X,Y and Z…I love you.” He is shaking and crying and throwing up. Your heart breaks looking at this man you love. So you stay and you hold him. You tell him, “I’m here for you.”


Sound familiar? Get used to it. Every two to three months you will hear this same story. And you will believe it. Every time seems genuine, because in the moment it is. But just wait a few more weeks and you’ll get to relive it again. It becomes quite predictable. Which why I assume the year I told him “I will believe it when I see it. And I don’t care anymore,” he soon after decided to find someone new, you in fact. A person that was easy to turn, fresh and gullible, to believe all of his pain and suffering.


Believe me when I say, you are not special. Neither was I. This is what he does with women. We were just caring and loving enough to look the other way. To see good when all he showed was bad. I have to believe that. I have to believe that despite that fact that you are a selfish, adulterous bitch that didn’t care about hurting me, you must actually care about him. Why else would you do this? Or perhaps you are more fucked up then I could have ever imagined.


I hope you know that when all is said and done, I will be your best friend. I will be the only one that understands this insanity, his insanity. But please go a few more years. Oh and live together for 3 or 4 of those years like I did, then we will really have so, so much to talk about.


Sincerely,


The Ex