What are you looking for?
My Unsent Letter
2 months ago · · Writing Prompts · Explicit
Who the fuck are you?
Its years later. I search for answers. Still. Not always but often. You take up my thoughts, mostly in fear, sometimes in anger, and if not that in confusion.
You wiped me out. You treated me as if I was nothing after years, years of knowing you, years of adoring you, years of sleeping with you, beside you, confiding in you, laughing with you, I don't even know what we were.
I don't even know that.
There are things that you did, that took me so long to recognize for what they were.
I tried so much, so often to speak with you about those things, because I wanted, I hoped I could find clarity. I hoped I could find assurance that it wasn't that. Somehow.
And all I found was more abuse, the more I tried to understand the crueler you became. You said I was a narcissist. You explained it with that, and at the time, I was so confused by everything that had happened I believed you. Perhaps I'd rather believe that I was the problem, that I was the reason for my own confusion than believe you as someone I had loved as evil. The love I had for you, it was given freely, it was pure, it neither wanted nor expected anything, it just was. Had we never spoken again, had you never hurt me in the extreme way you did, had I never had to obsess for an answer as to why my hands shook in your presence, and to what you did, as to if I was raped multiple times, had I never had to search for it on my own as I did yet never spoken to you again, that love would have remained pristine, just a little piece of joy to think of, to think towards, of something sacred. Alas, the image I had of you as someone good, as someone decent deserving of love was broken, you broke it. You without wound broke it, I tread on the pieces like thousand of pieces of crystal piercing the soles of my feet, searching....who are you?
Ten years. Ten years and then the end and then some, and the years since and I still don't know who you are. I don't know you. Who are you?
In all my questions, my search for the truth I searched for reason, I searched to justify you and your actions for you so I could keep on loving you, but it was broken. And in all my regard for your feelings, your thoughts, you meanings, your needs, your boundaries you shat all over mine. You screamed me out. Over and over and over. So much I remember...butter wouldn't melt in my mouth, how could I pretend to be so naive, disingenuous, these things you said...I think I'm the leading actress and you are just an extra...more you said...none of it matched up to what I believed, to who I was, to what I felt...you were the star of the show, you were everything and still...all that you did to hurt me and still, in my search to understand why on earth you just kept showing me what a piece of shit you were, you said I sent you those messages to hurt you, no, I sent you those messages because I was hurting, because you could never let me speak, because amongst all your yelling and screeching those messages were the only way, and that's over now, there will be no more, has not been in years, but I remember it every day I remember it.
You made contact in April. Why? Why? I wont dare ask you, but I search for answers, in stories, in poems, in anonymous letters, in words, in pictures, in bed, in my car, still searching...but the answer is always the same. You're shit. Thats the answer. You're a shit human being. You're a psychopath. I never used to believe that anyone could really be shit, but that was daft, you are, you really are a piece of shit human being.
And how my life has been affected? Well I've not mended. I've recovered somewhat. I function mostly now, like I didn't then, but I lost a lot of the life I had built for myself to devastation, I used to strive, I used to have ambition, joy, but now...now I just exist. I just get by. And still...its been years. Four years. I wonder if when you think of me, you think of me on any deep level, if you did then would you not know not to contact me? Would you not know that the only communication I would have desired from you four years ago were the answers, was closure, resolution? Or did you really think you could just reach out after all this and I'd come running on back? Who the fuck are you?
I wonder if outside of your work and your own ego if you think of anything deeply. I wonder, outside of rage, anger, and the mask you wear to hide does anything else exist beyond your insatiable desire for supply, success, attention, success, money attention, privilege, is there anything else? Is there sorrow? Is there remorse? Do you see yourself? Do you realize the negative impact you have? Do you get off on it? Do you see my value? Do you see you have destroyed years of my life? Do you see this? Does it bring you satisfaction? Supply? What did you ever want with me? Do you ever miss me? Do you ever wonder what it might feel like for me in the brief moments when I remember something funny and then miss you, before I remember the person I thought you were is a complete and utter lie? Do you honestly believe you are anything like the person you pretend to be? Do you honestly believe you are without flaws? That none may stand up to you else they be deemed narcissists? Do you check yourself? And aside from the rest, you who has gone so far as to attempt to use the judicial system to not only shut me up, but to further exercise power over me, did you actually enjoy the times you took advantage of the agreement to subject jme to further unwanted contact from you?!? For what purpose? What purpose is any of it? Who the fuck are you? Are you an idea? Are you a shell? Are you a paddling pool? Are the lights on? Hello? Is anybody home?