Letter #11

I'm sorry I have been so absent lately, lovelies. I haven't felt much lately, or maybe I've felt too much and that's the problem. Everything is different. I don't know who I am, or who Everett is and I'm lost in all the confusion of my life lurching forward and never giving me enough time to breathe. Time is passing so quickly and you see, I'm running out of time. I'm running out of time to say I'm sorry, and to make phone calls, and to please the scale, and to fall in love again. All these things I've been hoping for and yet I'm still here in the exact same position as last year torn between killing myself and everyone around me. There is nothing. There is nothing. There is nothing. And then there is something.
I lost myself in Chicago a few weeks ago and I haven't been found since. Everything was so unfamiliar and it seemed to be the only place Everett hadn't poisoned for me. Each new cafe I walked into I peeled off another layer of skin. I ripped another one of his letters. And at the end of it all I felt cleaner. Not whole, certainly not. But as if I could manage all the loss I'd experienced over and over again for three years.
For once, I want someone to be afraid to lose me. I'm always the one who is so terrified of losing the ones I hold close, but I've never once seen anyone who would ever fight to keep me in their life.
I wanted to live inside his delicate bones, melt into him like a second skin. I wanted to love him so terribly.
The last night I was with him, I was taking pictures. Pictures of him taking pictures, pictures of him laughing, pictures of his car, pictures of his pianist hands. And he didn't know that I knew that that was the last night I was ever going to see him.
It was so much easier to let go because I knew it was coming. I saw it like I saw the fat growing between my bones, making me ugly again. The loss of him was making me ugly.
But I put on my black dress, pretended like I didn't know, and I took pictures and danced and laughed and cried. Everything feeling lost and broken and hurt. Then the mustic stopped I never heard another sound from him.
I wish I could sink my fingers into the golden curve of happiness but my footholds are loose and they crumble with the weight of all my hopes.
I'm not sad until I think about it. But once I think about it, it hits me like a wave a sharpened rocks. Once I think about it, my eyes are heavy, like there is too much gravity pressing down on my heart.
He was the only thing I had faith in, but the only thing I knew would let me down. And it's all my fault. I'm sorry for being me. If I could go back in time I'd change it all.

I'm sorry again, for being gone. I will go through my newsfeed and comment on all your guys' post. You all deserve so much more than I give you. I love you so much.

Valmai.