Dearest Beloved,

Dearest Beloved is a project that aims to help people heal through letter writing. It's aim is to give writers the opportunity to exhale and heal through putting into words their thoughts and feelings, directing them at someone or something. It caters to individuals trying to find closure and using their words as a tool to heal. These are our stories told the way we want them to be told, our experiences, forcing you to finally listen.

[dearest-beloved]

Dearest Friend,

The remains of our childhood hung in tatters

One breath away from utter abandonment

Hopeless grief incased my chest, my lungs

You stood there, unknowing

of the silent cry in my eyes

Confusion clouded yours.

No longer was the looked upon,

but the dreaded upon.

[dearest-beloved]

The One

Hope kept me alive Hope kept me breathing Hope kept me smiling But hope is a beggar. And I relied on it for so long. Hope is driven by fear. But I thought I was fearless mom? Didn’t you tell me I was? You need Faith, she said. Faith is fearless. Faith is love. Faith is my savior. So I begged Him. God guide my soul, For it is lost and broken. And when I pick up the pieces, I cut myself and cry for help. But you are infinite. God you’re Love.  God you’re the one. God give me faith, for it is all I need to feel alive. You’re all I need to keep breathing and when I mention your name my smile is infinite. @its_miia / itsoyou.tumblr.com

[dearest-beloved]

I Guess I Should Use "Ex" When I Speak of You Now

(Warning: Contains mild swearing and mild suggestive language, rated PG-13ish)

Love,

It’s been almost a year.

I swing back and forth between having nothing to say to you and everything to say to you.  Grief is so hard to process.  I saw something once – probably on tumblr – to the effect of sometimes we are either too empty or too full to say anything.  I am not sure which I am.  Too full, I guess, but here’s a stab at it.  I don’t know if I’ll say a lot or a little.

Do you remember me calling you that?  “Love?”  Your pet name for me was always “sweetheart,” and later on, “little one.”  (God, I loved it when you called me “little one.”  You have no idea what it did to me.)  Me using “love”….I hoped to convey just that.  Love.  My love.  That I loved you.  Yeah, like that.  I loved you like that.  I still do. 

I fell so much harder than you did, and I guess that was part of the problem.

I am so pissed at you I could beat your ass up one side of this room and down the other until you are nothing but a smear on the floor, but what good would that do?  I’d feel better, but ultimately, it wouldn’t do either of us any good.

Where did you go?  And what the hell was that?

I don’t understand what happened.  Four years of the best friendship of my life, and a little love too, and all of a sudden, you are gone with no explanation. 

Love, I know things about you that really no human being should know.  I know because you told me, because you trusted me with that knowledge, and because you felt safe enough with me to tell.  For that, I am truly honored because that is the type of person I want to be.  I won’t tell a soul, love, what you’ve told me, no matter what.  They aren’t my stories to tell, and anyway, to do so would be a disrespect to you (even though I question how much respect you have for me).

Why did you abandon me, love?

I can only think of three reasons.  The first one is you managed to pull the wool over my eyes for so long that the real you finally showed.  But I don’t believe that reason, not a lick.  I think you hid parts of yourself from me, but I also think you showed me parts of yourself that nobody else ever saw.  (Is that it?  Did I get too close?)  The second reason I can think of is I know how many things were going wrong in your life, and I know how much you were hurting and how frustrated you were.  You thought I didn’t, but I did.  Did you just hit critical mass?  You sure tucked tail and ran.  (That tends to be a pattern with you…)  The third thing I can think of is you recently found out something about me, something that you previously didn’t know before and I didn’t tell you because I didn’t completely understand it myself.  You know exactly what I am talking about, love.  You thought I was one thing, and you weren’t exactly correct.  Do you think you had something to do with that?  Cute.  You didn’t.  I was that way before I even met you.  I didn’t think knowing would bother you, seeing as how you feel almost the same way, but judging by your behavior there for awhile…it did SOMETHING to you.  I’m just not sure what.  You didn’t have to act that way, but then neither did I, so I guess I should take a bit of the blame on that one.

For months, I have questioned what I did wrong to make you leave me. 

I saw something today – on tumblr, of course (because I have no life) – that was on the subject of abandonment.  The thing that got me the most is that abandonment has nothing to do with the abandonee and everything to do with the abandoner.  So I guess I didn’t do anything, then…did I? 

You, my love, really don’t do emotions and conflict well, and admit to this.  Your brain shuts down.  You run.  You jump ship and run like the devil is after you. 

I understand that feeling.  I understand because sometimes I want to do it, too.  But you can’t run from this one, love.  You did it to yourself.  This situation is much bigger than you.  I want to call you a coward, but I can’t because I understand how it feels to want out of a trap so badly you’ll chew off your own foot to free yourself.  And that’s what you did, I suppose, though your thinking really is bizarre (even for you) and I have heard about some of the choices you have made through the grapevine.  I really think you’ve gone and lost your mind.

Where are you?

I miss you.  I miss your body’s weight on top of mine and your leg casually thrown over my waist.  (I really loved being thrown onto the bed and I really loved it when you pinned me down.)  I miss your cuddles.  I miss your hand caressing my face.  (I have to resist the urge to kiss your palm every time you do that.)  I miss your wit and sarcasm and I miss your fiery spirit and your amazing magnetism.  I miss your smile and your laughter and those things you would say on purpose just to shock me.  You always did love to shock me just to see my reactions.  I didn’t mind it, though.  I wish you were here to shock me now.  I even miss tripping over your stupid, dirty, worn-out combat boots that you left at the foot of the bed.

Marlboros.  One of your weaknesses is Marlboros.  I even miss your Marlboro smoke.  Nobody could ever make so awful and disgusting a habit as smoking as charming (and, while we’re being honest, as sexy) as you did.

But also, nobody could ever hurt me like you did.  You knew where to stick the knife to make it hurt the most, love, and whether you meant to or not, you did.  I am trying to clean up the mess, but I never realized how extensive the damage you did was until I started looking…and digging…and sobbing…in my therapist’s office, to my friends, alone in the car.

I have to believe you cared.  I just have to.  Otherwise, why would we have shared so many secrets and cried on each other’s shoulders so many times?  I knew you were pregnant even before your mother did.  If you didn’t care, why would you have gotten angry with me when I didn’t eat?  Why would you have given me your coat in mid-December and been cold so that I could be warm?

You left some of your stuff here.  I boxed it up and shoved it in the closet, but I have no idea what else to do with it.  If I was a different person, I would burn it or throw it in the lake. 

I have not decided if I want to ever see you again.  Someone has expressed to me that she hopes we can resume our friendship (she doesn’t know about the other things and I have no intention of telling).  But I don’t know.  You can’t run from me like this again.  Once was a warning, twice is a pattern and a lesson.  How can I ever trust you again?

I want you, love, but I am trying my hardest to accept the fact that I will never have you, and that you are horrible and toxic for me, even though I never realized that until everything went all to hell faster than I could keep up.  That doesn’t stop me from hoping, from dreaming, but it’s a false and stupid hope.  I need to let go, but I just can’t.

I love you.  I hope you know that.  And I miss you.  I hope you know that, too.  But mostly, I hope you find whatever it is that will make you happy and soothe your tortured soul and quiet your hellish nightmares (you know, the ones you think I don’t know about).

Good night, love. Rest well, wherever you are, and may angels carry your dreams up to the stars.

~ Little One (Sweetheart, if you prefer)

____________________________________________________________________________

tumblr: behindthehologram.  I am just trying to make sense of the world around me and in me, and tumblr is how I do it.  Tumblr and therapy.  Expensive therapy.  Lots and lots of expensive therapy.  >.<

[dearest-beloved]

The book I never wrote [p.1]

My mother gave me a lecture this morning about wasting my time. She was talking about a friend of hers and how cancer was slowly taking her away. And every time she swept away her tears, she paused. Like she somehow, forgot to breath.

”I’m scared, she said. I don’t want you to end up like those lost souls. You need to understand that this isn’t eternal. That your skin will shrink. That your body won’t hold your soul forever. And somewhere between now and then, you got to be happy, and free. But mostly, conscious of your time.” Maybe she was just talking to herself, to remind herself. Maybe she meant much more than I could understand. And maybe she meant to tell me that everything’s perishable. Feelings are perishable. I got to live accordingly. ______ @its_miia

[dearest-beloved]

Dear Beloved, After all this stuff I’ve written and all these people I’ve talked to, and even though our final conversation was already a few months ago, I want to at last dedicate one letter to you, in which I tell you everything I never actually mentioned to you. When we started being friends, I had only recovered from a very difficult time of my life, and I was feeling very harmonious and at peace. Still, I needed someone who could understand me now, as I had changed and learned so many things. You were the one I could articulate myself to. You were the one I could connect with. We were so similar in so many ways, we harmonized, and yet we were so different, such opposites, we balanced each other out. I felt so genuine around you, you were so true to me! I knew you could be difficult, but to me, you weren’t. I was understanding of you, and frankly I admired your considerateness, your strength and your knowledge. I felt deeply for you, but I didn’t want to ruin this. I was happy just being with you and around you, whatever that meant. We talked so much and so deeply, I adored talking to you. I had fallen in love with life, and I blamed it on you. I really thought you were being genuine when you came closer to me, and honestly, that first time I was the happiest human being in the world. Surprised as I was, it felt so right. I loved you. I was cool with whatever, as long as it was with you. I’ll never forget these moments and those lovely months we spent being friends. I think I loved you because I shouldn’t, because everyone told me how difficult your actual self was, because of how weird this whole thing would be. And I loved you, because I could see your truth. I hadn’t asked you to love me back, I was happy with the love I felt because of you. But then things got out of hand… one big misconception and dishonesty… I wasn’t honest with myself anymore. I started getting depressive again, and this heart-break was just on top of that… I had never in my life felt so much a burning aching in my heart. I had never suffered so much. And there was only me to blame. I thought it was my fault. I’m sorry, honey. I know we could have prevented all of this if only I had been true with myself, and with you. If only you had told me what you wanted. If only you had showed me who you really were. Sometimes I still hate you, because of our conversations, not because of what you did with me. I projected all of my hate onto you because you were the reason for all my heartache. I realize now that that wasn’t fair. But you know you didn’t act right. When you told me you’re sorry, I did believe you. But it hurt that you didn’t actually care. Maybe that hurt the most. No sorry in the world could have made up for that. But I learned so much because of this. And the biggest lesson, I think, was to be in emotional pain and experience actual suffering. Now I know. I will forever cherish those lovely moments because they’re still part of me. I am forever grateful for what happened. It’s just that you have changed, and you have hurt me. I am no longer interested in the person you are. I can’t gain anything from touching you or talking to you. I’m glad it’s over, I’m glad you’re not in my life anymore. But the person you were, I loved him, and I still do, and I still adore this part of my life. Thank you for everything, and I do wish you well.

- This author asked to remain anonymous.

[dearest-beloved]

we vibed.

we spent seven months together. and it was amazing. we spoke to each other so much it was like we were having one extremely long conversation. the days seemed viciously too short and the nights painstakingly too long. if i wasn’t talking to you, i was thinking about you. it was you. and after sharing parts of ourselves usually reserved from the public you showed me things about myself i never knew. and for that i will forever be indebted to you. so it was no surprise that i fell in love with you. it was like we were two puzzle pieces too awkward for the outside world but with each other we fit perfectly together and we vibed. it was brillant. and as every day went by and we fell deeper in the rabbit hole the only solution was to spend the rest of our lives together. so after months of loving you silently i found the courage to tell you how i felt. and to my surprise you didn’t feel the same. your exact words were you didn’t “want to give me hopes for something non existent” …non existent, really? after seven months…i was embarrassed and angry. i’m not one for sentimental things it just didn’t make sense. we had everything in common. i dont know how to move past you when you’re all that i think about and all that i want. we havent spoken for about a month and i feel the clock ticking, mocking and reminding me of all the time we're not spending with each other. a part of me wishes that all this was a nightmare and i'd wake up to your messages and comforting words but as the clock continues to tick and tock you slip even more farther from me. soon you'll be a memory. but it's okay because you’ll always remain an enigma and the most favourite chapter of my life. be easy, homie. 

- anonymous.

[dearest-beloved]

R.

I'm burning again My charred insides beg They want to be put out I can feel the water in your soul Spare me the fire I have for you Put me out Sometimes I think you see it The fire behind my eyes The smoke pouring from my throat You want me on fire You want to see me burn for you But you're an ocean Taking things into you Drowning them to the bone Well drown me Put me out Could an ocean love a flame Would you get tired of my smoke My burning guts How many have you drowned in your wake Why would I ever want an ocean To put me out - quitsville.tumblr.com

[dearest-beloved]

3:45

I guess it’s my fault after all. Everyone around tried to warn me. I even warned myself. And with you trying to warn me is a warning to itself. but hey, some people need to see it to believe it. My mother, on the other hand, told me that its never a good thing to fight against love. And honestly, I cant blame her for not seeing that it was bigger than that. It was stronger than that. it was a mortal combat. I should’ve known. They say beliefs come from thoughts you keep repeating yourself. Well I feel shame, I have no one to blame. I should’ve repeated to myself something other than your name. ________ @its_miia / tumblr: itsoyou

[dearest-beloved]

I call it nostalgia

The same feeling got to me this morning A year later I still wake up with the envy to talk to you. Tell me how long it'll take for me to realize that keeping track of time means that I'm far from forgetting and too close of loving? Its like my whole body needs to hear your voice its like your presence is sufficient to my body, for it to function normally. And I know what I said the last time we spoke It sounded like "I don't need you" and I probably screamed something like "I will never forgive you" But today I woke up with the need to see you And if that means that I have to forgive you Well, I'll put every once of mercy I have in me, on you. ________ twitter: its_miia / tumblr: itsoyou 

[dearest-beloved]

A letter

So after 2 years this letter was long overdue, its addressed to you. Honestly I wanted you so bad that I became infatuated with an image, an idea maybe even an illusion. You were the illusion a mirage I could never reach. Something so promising but it never worked, mainly due to us both. I forced myself to move on with someone you knew. I flaunted and flirted til you could get the message. You definitely got it. And after 2 years of repressing emotions and avoiding guys it came back. The wound has been broken. I genuinely feel stupid for thinking you were the one. Everyone kinda knows what happened and look at me as the crazy bitch he liked. So I made a new image and I actually moved on but after my decision you bluntly stared. Okay get this through your head I am Muslim, not white, not a wag and too intelligent for your shite. So fuck off and respect me enough to not stare. Because trust me darling if I wanted people to stare I’d show more than my hair. Your life and my life could never combine. You want to be a footballer and I want to be a hotshot lawyer. So it’s okay run off with a little trophy wife and I’ll stay on my own living my life. Because baby I have realised that I don’t need a man. Don’t need your pretty looks or your fit body I have all of that for myself. I do wonder why you were put into my story because let’s be honest we barely held a conversation let alone me. Maybe its a lesson: you will get what you deserve when you love yourself. Only then something of worth will come knocking on your door and this time it won’t be a stupid crush but actual amore. I want to be myself whatever that may be, so long as it doesn’t lead me back to you or you back to me. So bye, sayonara, I am done. Done with the day dreams and all of the “what could have beens”. Baby you picked your life and I picked mine and darling you and me could never combine. So now I’ll embrace the silences because this pathetic excuse of a ‘relationship’ doesn’t deserve words. You might be nice but I don’t want nice or kind. I want passion and depth all of which you lack. So this is it, last time I will probably see you so goodbye enjoy your life and stay the hell out of mine.

[dearest-beloved]

Dearest Beloved, Most love stories tell of some sort of romance or passion, even if it was one sided. I’m still deciding if our story qualifies. I know there was a time when you felt it too. I saw it in the way you stared at only me in a room full of people, in the way you laughed at my weird awkwardness, and in our conversations about absolutely nothing and everything at the same time. In the beginning you were different. You were caring, humble, and the very definition mischievous. I fell for you, with your curly hair and fire eyes. I fell for your unusual humor, and the strange way you saw the world. You were the first person that made me feel unique, made me believe in this thing called love. I fell in love with you, and though we never spoke to each other about it, I think you fell for me too. At least until she came into the picture. I wasn’t worried at first, as I was never the jealous type and I foolishly felt as though we were in a stage of commitment. Blame that on the 14 year old imagination. I began to worry, however, when you changed. I noticed how you got new clothes and dropped all our favorite indie bands for more mainstream music. I watched painfully as you became careless, and rebellious. As you started to pretend you didn’t care, and you stopped smiling. What did she do to you? What did she say that made a boy once so against the typicality of the average teenager, become the very definition of it? What spell did she cast that turned you from my sweet caring love to this asshole you’ve become? What made you change from telling me I’m beautiful to telling me I’m an oversensitive, dramatic idiot? What made you choose her over me? I know you’ll never answer. You are gone, and I’m still deciding if it made everything better or worse. I’ll never see you again, never hear your ringing laugh, and I’ll never forget you. I wish you all the best in life and hope everything works out with her. With love, India

find more from the author here: fountain-of-stars.tumblr.com

[dearest-beloved]

Hey you, I heard you moved house. I wasn’t invited to your housewarming, because you exiled me a long time ago. I came afterwards, I couldn’t let myself abandon you even after you tried to get rid of me. Not what I expected at all. The outside is picture perfect. How did you find this place? Is this why you won’t leave? Upon closer inspection, the walls trap you inside. The windows are your eyes, dark and dismal as they look towards the sunrise. The door is your heart, wrapped in chains and holds steadfast against any happiness that comes your way. The roof is your mind, trapping the demons inside while keeping the angels out. I knocked on the door day after day. I stood outside the door and cried for you, for who you seem to be and who I know you are. I knocked on windows, but you couldn’t hear me. You think I’m dead, but I’m here. I’ll always be here but you won’t see me. Won’t let me help. Open the windows, let the light in. Open the door, and take a walk. Light the fireplace and burn the demons. Where did you find this place? Why won’t you leave

This Author asked to remain anonymous.

[dearest-beloved]

I can taste the words, they’re on the tip of my tongue. Like dulces I try to savor them. I can taste the words but they won’t come out, stuck on my clumsy tongue. I can taste the words, they paint pictures of wonder in my head. Vivid portraits and elaborate landscapes. I can taste the words, they’re not ready to be picked. Not ripe enough to be digested whole. Full of bitterness and spite, I cannot taste the words

Aaliyah, A lost soul just trying to find her place in this world. Pensive and deeper thinker, very much introverted.

[dearest-beloved]

Dear Isaac. When you are 13, your life will change. You will get cancer, and being as young and innocent as you are, you will never really know what is going on. The next year will be hell for you, you will have tubes and needles in every vein, your golden curls will be replaced by a sickly bald head, your rosy cheeks will grey and turn lifeless, but the one thing that will never change is that you will smile every day, regardless of the pain and sickness and fear, even at the very fringes of death itself, you will smile. You will learn many things, many of them spiritual. You will learn the importance of living, you will learn that your parents care about you more deeply than anything else in this world, and that family is the greatest gift. But if there was one thing that you learnt that you wished the whole world could know.Never be afraid to live your life, because there is no guarantee you will live to 80. Stop being afraid to live Because we only get one shot.

This writer has asked to remain Anonymous.

[dearest-beloved]

Dear Mishka in grade 9 I wish I could write a letter to tell you everything is going to be okay the truth is that I am still healing 2 years later Things are becoming more overwhelming by the day But you are going to London by yourself later this year You are learning French well Your skin is clearer You have accepted that you can love girls You are in love with a girl there is a year left of school Mr T is leaving You are getting help Blue is alive You are not hopeless You are not hopeless you are not hopeless you are not hopeless i am not hopeless I AM NOT HOPELESS OR UGLY OR GROSS OR STUPID OR WEIRD OR ANYTHING THAT IS NOT GOOD GOOD WONDERFULLY HEARTFULLY GOOD I wish I could protect you but that is your job You did a good job I need to carry on healing now I love you I love you I love myself

this author submitted anonymously

[dearest-beloved]

Dearest Beloved, one day I will run your mind like a childhood game. you will wonder what became of the girl who blushed every time you called her name. The one who laughed nervously with your every word. you will wonder if she still giggles like a girl and avoids eye contact when speaking. I don’t. That was reserved for you alone. I was so nervous around you. So fucking eager to be perfect for you, I would agree to anything. You never saw me as enough. I loved you for years and I was ready to love you years more, but I grew tired. Do you know how exhausting it is wondering if today you will love me like you did last night? I shouldn’t have spent so many Sunday afternoons hoping you would ring my door. You left too much room for doubt darling. So what happened? One night I finally saw how much more I have to offer than convenience and a warm bed. Love doesn’t leave you lonely. I decided I had to let you go. May you one day find peace. Love.

find more from the author here www.presentintheory.tumblr.com

[dearest-beloved]

Dearest Beloved,

[dearest-beloved]

Dearest Beloved is a project that aims to help people heal through letter writing.  It's aim is to give writers the opportunity to exhale and heal through putting into words their thoughts and feelings, directing them at someone or something. It caters to individuals trying to find closure and using their words as a tool to heal. These are our stories told the way we want them to be told, our experiences, forcing you to finally listen.