Dear You

A letter, dated. To a certain someone, or to anybody else out there.

[dearyouyoursme]

10.11.2015 - Best Time Ever

Dear You,

You’re officially his longest relationship too. You’re making plans for in a year’s time. You’re getting warm cheeks and a smile is on your face just thinking about how stupidly wonderfully happy you are, with him, because of him. You don’t need him, to complete you, or whatever nonsensical notion there is, but he is undeniably an inseparable part of your life now. And that is good.

Love,

--Me

[dearyouyoursme]

27.08.2015 - White Wine and Good Times

Dear You,

I think we’re mending fences on this house. I’ve neglected care of my home. It needs attention, painting when the colour fades.

And on a night where we celebrated that love is ambiguous I can’t help but flush at how much it’s obvious to me. And good. White wine makes it easy to see things with rosé tinted glasses, but my heart is red hot, thinking about my Philosopher.

We are just honest in our embraces and conversations and kisses we share and apparently we inspire the world around us and cheer it up. Nothing could make me happier to the core. Everything else is a bonus.

I love him. Straight up and simple.

Love,

--You

[dearyouyoursme]

25.02.2015 - Prophecy, Wish or Nightmare

Dear Me, You've had a month and more as the girlfriend to a most wonderful boy. He has showered you with attention, affection and gifts, and you realised he wasn't going to go away. You've never had someone so kind to you whom you wanted kindness from. You've never had someone so dependent on your happiness for their happiness. The Philosopher has laid himself down for you not to have to touch the ground, he has propelled you to the skies. You hope you are anything close to an equal. He loves you and you love him, and you are sure you love him too, you're not just persuading yourself. His actions made you fall for him when you told yourself to be careful for once. Not that you don't love him carefully. But you can't help yourself looking at him occasionally when he does something unaware of you, and think "he is so wonderful and I am lucky to have him in my life". So why are you shitting all over that with a dream of Him? You thought that loving one person absolved you of the ache of another. It's ridiculous. You haven't once dreamt of anything pleasant about the Philosopher, and yet your mind leads you down a trail of reconciliation with someone who was never as good to you. No matter how much a dream makes the Smoker seem like he's someone better suited to you, it's not your life. It's a dream. And you're already on a wonderful dream in reality, being in a healthy relationship. Quit it, mind. Love, --Me

[dearyouyoursme]

09.02.2015 - so you love him

It's not a lie. You love him, and as you profess to those who can't judge because they never saw you with the one that depressed you, or the aftermath of that, you finally love rationally, not passionately. It's not wrong. But is it just as stupid? You love the Philosopher but it lacks the fervour of the Smoker. You love the Smoker but it lacks the conviction of the Philospher. One of them treated you like a princess and one of them treated you like an equal. One of them encouraged the worst in you and one of them expects nothing but inherent goodness from you. When you can't point the signs any longer you realise that signs have np bearings. But the past surely is the past for a reason. Except things are changing the future every day. So be open to the change. And the future. Nothing is set in stone. Love, --Me

[dearyouyoursme]

19.01.2015 - The Great Unknown

Dear Me,

in A Series of Unfortunate Events there was a giant question mark-shaped submarine that just appeared ominously in the periphery of the plot, and disappeared with beloved characters. It was called The Great Unknown.

I think I've given up my autonomy, for The Great Unknown, a question mark of a concept, that is the relationship with the Philosopher. I see myself as an animal from the midst of nature. I've been around people. I have spent time with them, grown to trust them in one way or another. But this is strange and unusual for me, and I don't know if I like it but I believe I must see this through for my reformation.

I don't want to be the wild one. I want to be meek and happy with it. I do doubt it, but as the inherent optimist that I am, I also suppose it were possible that the doubt will vanish as the time passes with the Philosopher.

The one thing I am afraid of is that I am doing this because it is easy, rather than right. It's easy to let yourself be loved by someone so willing to love you. I don't want to abuse this trust and love. But I want to love someone so willingly and without question.

But. We all know how that sentence could continue, all hundreds and thousands of its variations, all in reference to the Idiot, the Pochemuchka, the Smoker, the one who had all the names that alluded to the frustrations he caused me.

I don't know why I'm belabouring this point? I have it all right now. A job, a boyfriend, a place to stay that is affordable (although it might change), my friends nearby and a life of freedom. Why am I asking for more - like certainty, passion, an unquestioning nature towards this development?

Love,

--Me

[dearyouyoursme]

11.01.2015 - Duality

Dear Me,

what do you do when you find out that you're not friends any more. Because it's not just friendship. It's coded in the fancies of what ifs and pretend.

You know something is different when he starts playing with your hand under a pretense. And then he never lets go again. Except when you're sat across from him and his arms are hugging you instead.

You know something is different because while he persists with his stupid jokes that still make you laugh, he interrupts them himself to ask if he should stop in case you don't think they're funny, even though he knows, as you explain, that you are easy to entertain.

You know something is different as you stop talking about anything in the world, and the conversation turns to pointing out that something is different.

And different scares you.

You didn't want different, because before it was easy. Fuck love. Fuck you instead. Have fun. Laugh at how all the others get caught up in this trap of life that is called love. Laugh at how people swear they won't get into relationships but they do anyway; because you're smarter than that.

Love hurts, love sucks, love sucked away half a year of your life because you didn't know that it was such a powerful thing. After all, what was love before that, than a notion of fairy tales and movies, something that you saw and you wanted and you thought would be wonderful. You knew better now because love was for those who deserved it and not for those who couldn't handle it. You couldn't handle it.

You know something is different. You don't love him. Not like you loved the Smoker. Will you ever love anyone like the Smoker? Is it even good to love someone like that, like a cigarette, setting fire to yourself to give someone what you think they need but to burn up in the process, and then be discarded by them in the end?

This is different, and it scares you, but it scares him too, he says, not that it should, he says. He's too sensible. And talks about these things. And is too nice.

All your friends who know say that you should do this, because they think he's nice (after they put him through their trials). But it makes you sad because you knew other nice people and look how that went. But you also wonder, because it's true, he talks about these things. So maybe it could work.

You know something is different. But I think you'll see where it goes.

Love,

--Me

[dearyouyoursme]

Snap

I don't recall what name I gave you, You were meant to be the one that lost interest completely after seeing me go a different way after setting you back on your path - albeit after a glimpse of what it looks like on my side. I thought that when my phone went the way so many did before and forgot all the words it had been given, you'd forget me and whatever you thought I was the key to. The first time we talked was a beautiful conversation. I had no plans for the year. Just wanted to explore this new world that I had chosen to become a part of, consciously, after unwittingly drawing myself in a year earlier. You said things, I laughed, I said things, you laughed, you said that you were sorry you had a girlfriend, I agreed. I knew of her then only. And I had no plans. But that didn't mean I had no scruples. So we said more things, we agreed with another more, and I tried to dance away with my words, because who wants to jeopardise a relationship? It turns out that for other people I let my scruples pass. But for you I thought then, and I still do now, that you were too good to make a mistake for me, not knowing then how not having a plan would turn out. At the end of the year I felt sorry for you, because it seemed you had gone the way some boys I know have gone. They have their girlfriends and that's just about their life. Their friends from before ask with sad eyes but strong voices when things changed, but don't pursue sentimentality. When I heard your friend ask that question I wondered if I hadn't been a better judge. But I am no Goddess to play with people. I am a temptress, of that I'm sure. I wonder if you felt sorry for me, because I was wandering still, perhaps lost, to paraphrase Tolkien. Perhaps you felt sorry for yourself because what did you want from me, what did you think I was the key to - maybe you were so wrong, maybe I gave you a false impression. So why quietly look on? Is it not over after all, this exchange of things said and reasoned explanations of what would be the right thing to do but what would be nice? None of that matters so long as the answer to whether she's still you're girlfriend, sorry or not, is affirmative. Yours, --Me

[dearyouyoursme]

I have a rage for all the wonderful things I have written that were lost to the world through no fault of my own. There was much good in what I wrote last night and I am too bitter to attempt to write it again, because it won't be as inspired. I hate that inability to write miracles. Instead I play with fire, because I haven't burnt my fingers enough.

[dearyouyoursme]

24.12.2014 - The Whimsy

Dear Me,

it's lucky they left the window open, otherwise the lawn would have been our pillow, till we welcomed their return. No, this way we steal inside and make ourselves comfortable, avoiding to jostle the glass table that is laden with yet more glass, just like in memories.

Did we break the furniture after all? No, it just doesn't ease into us being there, because we weren't meant to be. He'd moved out and I'd moved on or not. But then it acquiesces, because we are like nothing happened, so why shouldn't it be too?

And we settle, we nestle, we meld into this shape that is made of two distinct lives that refuse to go to together but found each other again like the moth that courts the lamp.

I told somebody once that I didn't know what drugs were like but I was sure it was like this. Who needs them when this is free, this whimsy and the crash that follows?

But I know that I wasn't free to assume anything about this, so I have come prepared for just this one set of circumstances: this might never happen again. My head stays vigilant and remembers as everything slumbers.

We have jokes for breakfast, and he has cigarettes, like in the old days, but it's not the old days, it's a new day and we know it, and the whimsy of the night before has faded. Maybe this might never happen again. So at least the day we just left behind remains, just like in memories.

Love,

--Me

[dearyouyoursme]

11.12.2014 - Helpless

Dear You,

She’s doing it again. She’s doing it again and I can’t do anything. I can’t do anything except cry and she just rubs it in my face saying that’s not how people should react so I’m crazy. I feel like I’m in the fifties and she is going to lock me away before I realise it. I genuinely don’t understand my life and what I’m supposed to do. What am I supposed to do? There’s no cloaking it in nicknames and vague sentences now. My mother thinks I’m insane for being me. Being me means being insane to her. She wants me committed and I know she’s just saying it, but the more she says it I think the more she’s convinced of the idea. I mean how do you hit someone? You think about it long enough till you’re capable of hitting someone. And Lord knows my mother hasn’t been shy about hitting me.

I have literally told her I am moving out. I have said it. Now all I have to do is run away. Run away and be small and unimportant and never attract attention and eventually change my name and live in obscurity, but more importantly, in peace.

Yours, —Me

[dearyouyoursme]

11.12.2014 - Pipe Down

Dear Bitch, Yes love, all your yelling is making everything better. Everyone thinks you're a better person for it, you're helping us with all your advice and you most definitely know everything better than we all. I can't decide if the world you think you live in is a nightmare or a paradise to you. I don't want to know. All I know is I'm doing the right thing for myself while getting out of here while I can. Other kids have support and all I get from you is shit down my throat if I let you. And so competently you just get people so VERY rabid. So very rabid. I lose my very reason, my absolute self-control when I hear your bullshit penny psychology. Of course Trip drew pictures of "dysfunctional people" as a child because anyone but you fucked up. Of course we had a miserable childhood because the Bishop "was never around", and now we're apparently adults who make incompetent life choices deserving of putting us in homes for the mentally ill. There's something kids like to do, maybe you remember it from the dull days that you were a kid. They like to think of all the things that could happen if they could wish for all the things they wanted. You know, if you treat me like I'm supposedly a child, here's what I wish for in this childish game: Disappear. Fucking just disappear out of my life. Dissipate into thin air, vanish into the ether. Dissolve into nothingness. No questions asked, effective immediate. The repercussions? Work would miss you. The instructors at the fitness class might miss you. But don't get the impression that there's actually any person that wouldn't get over it with ease. And Trip and I? Would not miss you for a second. Now that's a reality I could live in. Yours, --Me

[dearyouyoursme]

07.12.2014 - Takebacksies

Dear Me,

I am a person who acts rashly, and sometimes fail to act at all - frozen at the prospect of betraying any stance on an issue. I live contrariness like any other human, I won’t apologise for that. But I wish I could take back what I said, only to fit in, because it was a lie.

I feel no animosity to him like she feels indifference. I wasn’t wronged, she wasn’t cheated, and we both have come out of our different experiences differently. I wish I knew how she thinks about it now, maybe it would help me to understand myself, because I’m not sure why I’m still tangled up in that red string? I haven’t cut the cords, I never would, I don’t think. Why though, surely /he/ has nothing better to do than precisely that.

I couldn’t knock him out if I were at threat of harm. But sometimes words hurt more in their sentiments than actions with nothing behind them. So we cannot be sure if he’d not think me crazier, or be more embitterned toward me, more cautious (than already, seeing as it’s not let me go still!) if he’d heard.

Sometimes silence is golden, I’ll have to remember that for the new year.

Love, —Me

[dearyouyoursme]

30.11.2014 - 28.11.2014

I was pushing things around, trying to clean up not knkwing that what I was doing was pointless, it wasn't working. Two years ago, two years on. I still still still have such a feeling. I didn't know how to write that sentence. I don't want to be sentimental, or soppy. I just want to be honest. There is no use in lying about feelings having gone away. I remain as ever. Why wouldn't I - the laughs are still genuine, the smiles are still real, I still warm up with memories. There have been other people after, but there's been no luck for me in finding someone who would shine brighter. To put him in the shadows, to obscure that impression. I tried. People like him. Unlike him. Anybody. Nobody. Nobody got near enough. For the new year, in January of this year, I pledged "This Year is Not About Guys". I think I got it right this time. I didn't do anything for a guy, I did it - occasionally misguidedly - for me. My actions weren't always marked by brilliance but they weren't inspired by men. It's not the way to be open to a relationship, but that was how I had to mend. I think. It's silly, but I feel terrible about lying to LTW about how I felt. But she doesn't know what happened the last time he and I saw each other. And she seems so over it, and I didn't know whether she would judge me for being where I am. Never start sentences with connectives. Are they the ones known as prepositions? I don't know what my next resolution should be. Me-focussed probably isn't a bad choice. Maybe I should resolve to work on a flaw of mine. There's plenty on offer - integrity, maturity, independence and stoicism are just a few that immediately come to mind. And who knows what will happen in five years time? I mean, three.

[dearyouyoursme]

14.11.2014 - You Know...

Dear Me, In the spirit of retrospective considerations I only have one thing to say here now: When you know, you know. Your insides are the best indicator of truth for yourself. You knew, no matter what the objective truth was, what the facts were, and you were right. Love, --Me

[dearyouyoursme]

09.11.2014 - Dream

Dear Me,

We are approaching, slowly but surely, the day that two years ago had a seismic effect on your life. You’re young, only sweet 22, and you haven’t lived much. Surely it’s hyperbolic to say that time splits into two aeras: Before and After. Before you knew he existed. And after you met him.

So, what’s life like, two years on? You have tried to be with someone else, who would have been gentle and open, but you let it go because he was not like the other one. You explored many options, after saying you’d never do that again. You made friends after it, such good ones, who were on your side, even though you were on his. And you saw him again, and again and again. First as if you were strangers.

There’s still the memories that you can super-impose on your old favourite haunts at a desire’s command. Walking past a field. A bush on the side. Taking a coach with a familiar route. But you’re very scared of what you always were scared of: there’s no proof it ever happened. You’re panicked because it turned half a year into a black hole, it marked you for tge rest of your days as you knew them, and it’s as tangible as something you made up, like a dream, and not the good kind.

We’ll be back for an evaluation closer to the time. For now, as lonely as it is, at least it’s dependably with

Love, —Me

[dearyouyoursme]

27.10.2014 - Crack

Dear Bitch.

I am losing my hold on my sanity. It's because of you. I feel like you are a weight on my chest, not just holding me down, but pushing me into the ground. You are taking away who I am. You are making me lose who I am and that isn't fair. Apparently you want what's best for me, but which me are we talking about? Because I don't think you want to let me be who I am. I wish every time I cried because I feel helpless and angry the tears would draw out my unhappiness like poison from a wound, but all that happens when I cry is I make you more angry. Why are you so angry? I haven't done anything. You say I've done nothing, but that's not true. You say there's no rules no expectations but I always feel like I'm coming up short to what you want from me. I don't even know what you want. You say there's no winners. But I am losing.

Me

[dearyouyoursme]

11.10.2014 - Beetle Mail

Dear Quinn,

thank you very much for your card and letter, you are quite right that it's nicer to get mail than using the internet for some stuff. I won this card from a competition by the company (Coulson Macleod, they made the tom-ay-to/tom-ar-to print I hung in the house when we lived together), so that explains the odd beetle cover - but it is quite nice anyway.

It's a shame and I'm sorry you didn't get the job although I understand they were trying to be considerate. There's lots you can take from this opportunity though, for instance you'll probably be less nervous for your next interview! What will you be doing at Cricket Hill, and what's your other volunteering position? And how is the theatre group going?

We had the Bear staying with us last week as you could probably tell by the album, which was lovely. I tried showing it some of the sights I took you, and Puck too, but also switch some things up as the poor Bear currently is on medication and can't drink. We went to a different interactive science museum and ALSO got in a traffic jam on the way which was amusing to me (I wonder if somebody arranged that!), and we visited the Reunification Day celebrations with my parents.

Some of the time was also spent working: the Bear prepared presentations for its lectures and other teaching materials and I improved job applications using its feedback. We've both applied to the Civil Service Fast Stream and are awaiting the results of this round. Fingers crossed we'll both come through! Besides that I wrote one application which has already been rejected, but at least they told me, rather than me having to check if two weeks have already elapsed or not (the usual time for a reply if an application was successful).

I've been busying myself with less productive things otherwise (because of the burn I couldn't swim but I'll hopefully start next week, I am with you on the biscuits front!), so mainly I've been writing on my blog (which I changed the name of, like my new Twitter handle) and watching TV. I don't have iPlayer because of living abroad. I will add Our Girls to the roster as I've heard it recommended quite a bit!

Personally I've gotten back into Awkward., which just got renewed for its 5th and final season, Faking It (about two girls pretending to be lesbian to be popular at an alternative high school), Modern Family (which I think you might like), South Park, The Mindy Project, The Good Wife, Grey's Anatomy (so many things happening, I'm sorry you have to wait!), and some new shows. Sailor Moon has rebooted! Then Karen Gillan is in a show called Selfie, and there's two cute rom com series calles A to Z and Manhattan Love Story. I realise I am wasting so much time watching these shows instead of stuff like reading my marketing book more but they are good shows!

I will be visiting uni and Nozza end of this month for Old Boys/Old Girls Hockey weekend (that was the time last year that I first met Mr LCR) (and also the second time my bed broke, I just realised as well...) Hockey players from all years come together to collect money on the Saturday, get smashed (the drinking way, but I suppose potentially the other way) at the LCR, and play hung-over hockey on the SUnday. This year Mr LCR set the date so that it would take place on the Halloween LCR, which I haven't been to since first year! So naturally I am quite looking forward to that, and visiting people like Mason and Michelle, and maybe even some Pine people (it's a shame it didn't coincidentally work out, but Laddercock and Ra's Eye are visiting the week before).

Anyway, my costume idea is Medusa, but I still have to sort that out properly. And I don't know if people are actually dressing up or not because last year the dress code was smart. I'll just take something nice as well, in case!

Right.

I miss you lots and lots and very much too. You and Wifey the most, but the others also. I really wish I were closer, for visits or calls but till then I'm working on it, jobs-wise and all.

Lots of love from here,

--Me