To the boy, whose memories I’d like to box in that corner of my heart that I seldom visit. There’s a lot I could’ve and perhaps should’ve said but didn’t or rather just couldn’t. To the boy whose words were sweeter than his virtues, I thank you for your words, words that made me feel alive. Picked me up. But I thank you for the same words that thumped me down just as much. The same way that made me feel forgotten. Used. Left behind.
Funny how you used your words to let your biggest fear echo in my soul, the fear of not being enough: inadequate. Words that left me wondering. Questioning myself. Words that left me questioning your words.
Your love or at least your projection of it has never allowed me to sleep. Of course, it was the butterflies in my tummy and your sweet sweet words ringing in my head. But now it’s the pain in my chest, a sound of my sweet sobs and of course your sweet sweet words ringing in my head louder than ever. There was nothing right or wrong. Just choices. I chose to believe in you, you chose to deceive. I chose honesty, you chose the other way. I chose to touch your vulnerabilities, and you chose to disrupt mine. I chose to reach out to the hidden side of your soul and you?
I chose to string all of your words, the good ones, the bad ones, the beautiful words or the heartbreaking, the flattering ones or the demeaning ones- every little word together and wrapped myself in them. Wrapped myself in them and held them so awfully close to me, so close that I almost chose to let your sweet sweet words choke me.
So, to the boy who chose to exude words sweeter than his virtues would ever be. I’m choosing to walk away from them. From you. To the boy whose words I was blinded by, these are my words for you:
I forgive you and goodbye.
“You don’t get to choose if you get hurt in this world…but you do have some say in who hurts you. I like my choices.” ― John Green, The Fault in Our Stars.
I think this one needed the quote.
Honestly, I’ve read this letter over and over, multiple times. But I am clueless as to what to write here, because every time I’ve gotten to the end of it, I’ve learnt something new about the writer, and learned a different lesson from this story. The hurt, the relentless love, the forgiveness, the magnanimity of the writers’ heart, and her ability to let it go.
There is a desperate cry for help, hidden somewhere in these words. What we love makes us vulnerable, and thus, usually ends up being the reason for our pain. Though this letter reeks of pain, more than blame I see the forgiveness being given to whoever it has been written for. I see a big heart that is willing to forego something that it loves; I see a shattered mirror looking past its brokenness and still letting the light bounce off it’s surface; I see the choice to let go of the love that cost this person pain.
To love something so much, and yet, have the right mind to know when to walk away from it… I can’t imagine how much that would take. How many of us have the power the let go, anyway?
(The Anonymous Anecdotes is a project under which anyone can send me a memory, a story or an experience from their life that had a profound impact on them. It requires people to write their respective experience along with the way it changed them or their perception of life. According to the project, these stories are being published anonymously, with the intent of spreading a positive message and a hope that anyone who reads, relates or learns. If you’re interested, you can send me your story at firstname.lastname@example.org.)