I often awaken in the middle of the night filled with fear. My body has jumped up before my mind can comprehend what’s wrong. I still don’t know what’s wrong [exactly]. I’m so scared. There’s something following me, something dark for from my past that[’s] reaching up with sharpened claws and a smiling monstrous grin.

I stay up into the late hours, only going to sleep when I can’t stay up any longer - when my eyes begin to roll back in my head and darkness elopes me for an eternity and even the animals’ sounds are drowned out and there’s only a single noise to be heard, which starts off as a low hum and steadily rises until i[t’]s an ear-drop drum-damaging high pitched scream. and when I open my eyes, and not even a minute has passed. Nothing has changed. [Nothing but noise.]

It’s in my head. There’s a monl monster in my head dying to get out and I’m weakly suppressing him with pills and sleep deprivation. Suppressing him with cunning stupidity, suppressing him with childish games and shaking hands that barely hold this pen [up right], surpressing suppressing with fear and lack of tears. 

I started this because I wanted to be honest with myself and write all the things down that I wanted to tell you (and others), but even here, where your eyes don’t pry and your mind doesn’t form judgments, I still can’t bring myself to write what I feel. I can’t bring myself to let all these feeling out because it feels like I’ll burst.

I’m so used to not saying anything and shoving these feelings down, it’s so odd finally expressing them for once. What am I to do? It’s difficult being so open and honest even though I’m in my own private place here. I just want to tell you so many things, like how I still remember your scent and the way you always smiled at me when you spotted in me a crowded room or how you came out of your quiet shell and kissed me excites me. But I can’t. I can’t bring myself to say anything. I’ll drown in this flood of emotion, I’l be overcome with all of this.

Do I just love you too much?

I have been dying since October. I wake up at night so afraid, so terrified, that I couldn’t be that afraid while awake. It has taken its toll. I have come to hate this life in this system of things. I have come to have no hope.

dearest mother,

i’m sorry that throughout much of my life living under your roof i have been rather indifferent and unemotional.

i love you.

i can’t say that enough. i know that i joke and more often than not i forget to tell you goodnight. i stopped saying that i’d see you tomorrow, because i’m so nervous that i’ll never be able to make that promise true the next day. 

my stomach turns and knots itself so tight that it becomes difficult for me to even bother showing a glimpse of emotion. it hurts, it really does that i’m not able to show you how much i truly appreciate you, and dear god, i am sorry, but it hurts so much more when i try to tell you.

do you notice? do you see my appreciate when i wait for you to get home from work? when i call you because i’m “bored”? when i offer to buy you things from the store? i hope you do, because i can only do small things like this. 

i can’t buy you a house and, to be honest, i can’t do much of anything besides the small things.

i hope that eventually all these small things add up to something big and beautiful.

something beautiful like you.

sincerely, 

your daughter

I’ve tried forgetting but that didn’t seem to work, so I’ve come to terms with who you are and who you’ve been. The only thing I wish I could see is what you really could be. Your past doesn’t make you or decide who you are. And I know you’re not sorry, but I’ve forgiven you.

I keep telling myself not to think because thinking always leads me to staring at a blank page. I tell myself just to write, keep writing and moving my fingers. Keep my thoughts on you and remembering all the beautiful things about you. I don’t want to forget your crooked teeth and how you begged your mother to get your braces. Wondered how you couldn’t see why your teeth were perfect the way they are. When I kissed you, your crooked teeth made no difference, but they created the sparkle in each of your smiles. Remember the way I always said I smelled like you after we spent hours in my bed just talking about non-sense? You smelt like autumn and rain. You were my favorite. You are.

I wish these words could somehow reach you because I know they would be met with understanding and you’d care for them in ways that I could never. I worship only words from your lips. I wonder if you remember me. Remember the way I only leaned in for your hugs? The way I almost begged you to touch me?

Are you thinking of me? Probably not. You’re thinking of her and how she’d simply “died without you.” Remember the time you told me that you didn’t really care for her?

Remember the time that I told you I loved you then turned around and avoided you for months on end? Remember when I let you go to her because I closed myself. You hurt me, but I hurt myself more, I suppose.

You’re happy, I hope, and that’s all that really matters. I always want to remember you being happy.

I mean, I like you, alright? You’re my friend, of course I like you. I adore you. But that doesn’t mean you can’t piss me off, weird me out, hurt my feelings, or ruin my day. That doesn’t mean that, even if I don’t say it out loud.

all our mutual friends say that you always ignore the majority of your text messages no matter what, but yet you always reply back (though albeit late sometimes). but when we come face-to-face, you can hardly get without ten feet of me. it was never like that before, we were never like this before. 

we’re stealing glances at each other and giving each other blank looks. we’re sitting ten feet away from each other and hardly acknowledging each other’s words. why do we do this? 

you’re just like me. neither one of us can talk about our emotions freely nor do we seem to want to chance that. i tried once, and you yelled at me. did i ever tell you how strongly words affect me? how strongly words affect anyone? you said such a simple thing, but it hurt in the most painful way.

“I don’t care what you have to say.”

I’m well aware of how this is going to sound, but I guess if I’m really going to try and explain this to you, then I have no choice but to be honest.

Plain and simple – he was what one might call a simpleton. An idiot. And he was straight out of a comedy; the worn out shoes, the awkward gait, the glasses, and some sort of self-taught artist. Look, I’ll cut the crap and confess that I classified him as strictly a tease. My interest in him was due almost entirely to the fact that, yes, he was cute. He was sexually attractive; he was sexy. It was really nothing complicated than that. Whether or not you approve, I think we can safely assume that you understand. And there’s something- I mean near contempt in the way that you can casually stroll over to him and simply hug him. You resent the fact that you know what’s going to be said before he even opens his mouth.

Okay, so now there we are in my apartment. Well, I’m sure he knew he made a mistake the moment he put on the condom. He wasn’t melodramatic about it, but I’m sure he would describe himself as terrified (because he trembled the entire time). I guess it was something in my eyes. I’m sure he knew instantly in the depths of his soul what my true intentions were.

I’m well aware that what I’m about to describe is nothing more than an old love-will-conquer-all story, but contain your contempt. Imagine what it must have felt like for him. Imagine how scared you would be and that anyone can bring you to this point just by wishing it. He stared directly into my eyes and willed himself to keep his gaze on me at all times. This was my first hint of sadness as I found myself admiring qualities in him that were the same I had been sneering at when I first saw him in school! It took no effort for him to hold me as I cried when he began. I wept out of appreciation. I cried, not loudly, but I did. I had learned more about love that day than any other stage in my life. I realized that I had never loved anyone before.

Can you imagine how any of this felt? To look at his shoes across the room on the floor and remember what I thought of them only hours before. Well, I’m not embarrassed. I don’t care how this sounds to you now. Can you see how I could not just let him go after this? I begged him not to leave, then watched as he closed the door and walk down the hall. It didn’t matter that he was awkward and not terribly bright. He had my attention, I had fallen in love with him.