Dear Reader,
This is to a reader I know all to well. I mean, I thought I knew them well. I thought I'd always know them well. And I'm doing this cowardly, as if I can't do this face to face. I guess I could but I honestly am scared. I'm scared of only a few things, the future, dying and the sea. All things that I cannot control but now I fear something else. Relationships.
Relationships, are another thing that you can't control.
Unless it's abusive but I'm not really going to go into that.
So reader, yes. I am angry. My irrational self, blames you but my rational self knows that it isn't your fault and it's a natural occurrence in life and if you're not losing friends that means you're not growing up and this is us just growing up.
You were a part of my childhood and I was a part of yours and just like old stuffed bears and old night lights, they get thrown away. I don't think that stops the emotions that come with throwing them away. Some people are better at saying goodbye then others, I'm just not one of those people. Getting rid of things just aren't my specialty and when I do, it isn't easy.
And I think maybe it was my fault that my old teddy bear got thrown away, maybe I didn't take care of it, maybe it was taking too much space in my room, maybe it was getting dirty and the dust collected from it made me ill but that didn't stop me from keeping it for as long as I could, because I loved it and I cherished and I wanted it to be with forever. I would have fought for it if I needed.
But you, reader.
You didn't want to fight for it, you didn't mind it being thrown away. At this point you had enough around so this bear had taken up a lot of space and finally being rid of it allowed you more space, it was dirty and there was no use for it anymore. There wasn't any point in it being there.
and that;s okay Reader.
Because you're better at growing up than I am. And because you're better at it, you don't feel as much when you say goodbye to it, you don't have any hard feelings. I don't think, I'll ever understand reader, not today, not tomorrow or even when I am 90. What I do understand is that if I don't let go I'll be smothered.
I think it's hurt me reader, and you're right. I did cry. And you're right, I cared more. Why is it me that cares more, why is it me that became optimistic, why is it me that feels so strongly about this. I rebelled and I trusted.
It feels stupid.
I'm sorry too, that I wasted my heart.
I did not deserve it.
I don't know what to say, I tried.
Yours Sincerely,
The Writer, that stopped.
