letters to someone I sent/ didn't sent on my home computer. (I was only 18 when I wrote these, so don't be too critical) dear - and so into the darkness I crept.... but it seemed as though for the first time in quite some time I was voluntarily walking. Did you ever hold something so dear to you you thought it would be yours forever. Maybe he will be yours. In knowing I will never be his, my own feelings start to swell. And I step back and take a breathe. Does he appreciate me for who I am or merely what I represent? Does he respect me. As far as I can fathom I believe so, I know he does. But criticism, ahh, what is the world without criticism. That to which a world I belong. Sensitivity and I are two in the same if I can flatter myself as such. Walking alone to a bus is when I feel the most like myself, something of the darkness makes me feel raw but whole. I can explain so much and I can explain so little. how could I explain him? It isn't that I want this to work, it isn't that I don't want it to work, I just don't want a crutch, especial one that dodges the idea at every possible confrontation. Hot and cold. Hot and cold in life. Hot and cold in decisions. Hot and cold towards me. And I a moderate temperate. It hurts to know I am not sexually confident any longer. I used to be. I could touch myself and smile. I guided hands to where I wanted them. I was secure. I was honest. And I loved the feeling of orgasm. To feel my body tighten, and have no control and then feel it loosen to a point of absolute limpness. I dreamed of sex, I daydreamed of sex. I talked about sex. But now I equate so much more with sex. I promised myself so many things. I promised myself that I would never just do it out of obligation. I promised never to fake another orgasm. I promised myself to yell if it hurt. I promised myself that I would be myself, and no one else. And I wonder now if I am holding true. Certain promises are kept.. Certain promises haven't pertained yet. Certain promises haven't been discussed. But above all the other promises I wanted to feel attractive again. In my own mind. Untouchable and soft. be happy with me but don't try to change me. Don't' tell me that we need to "work on that" There are some points in your life you give a little but not in feeling expressions. I kiss with my eyes shut, I may never kiss with my eyes open that is my decision. I have managed to be happy with this new realm of knowledge you have taught me. But his knowledge isn't to kiss without ramming my tongue down your throat. That you didn't't teach me. Words like that makes me feel bad. It isn't being compared to a cheese grater. That makes me feel like I can't do anything right. Just remember I am not used to having this kind of aggression. Between my nerves and my esteem I can't take anything put to me that bluntly. I like kissing you. But you see you didn't't teach me how to kiss, or how to kiss sweetly, I knew that I just had to remember where the trust was inside me. I know how to do these sexual things, but not when I am drunk or nervous. For every flashback you aren't't sure I am going to have that is one more I don't know if I am going to have. I know I have previous traumas that come back, as most people. Those I can talk about freely, ask. But as for those I do not know of, I don't know what will be wrong unless I feel it at the time. A premeditated warning is more than unapparent, it is impossible. You are a very sexual person. I admit that. I love that about you. There is also a certain degree of envy there. I want to go back to exotic positions, seducing my partner, and confidence. And I know I will. But it takes time. It doesn't' take doubt. Ask me anything I will answer you. If you want to know exactly what happened to me, read the report or spend some time and ask me. If you want to know what other minor things that have affected me sexually, ask me I will tell you Just don't assume. I am not frail. I am not to be pitied. I am just seeking a part of me that was closed off for a while. And putting criticism that has to do with my sexuality sounds to me like I am not good enough and puts me back steps. I THINK IT KNOCKS ME DOWN THE STAIRS. I am not asking for you to cradle me, I don't want that. I am just telling you to choose your words carefully. Your worried about me getting a complex about hearing stories about your ex-girlfriends... and I won't, and I haven't. I am not unhappy with myself. just make sure you know not to make the comparison in your mind for your own sake, because I can't live up to another person's actions if I am trying to be my own person. I am not judging you please don't feel a little bit of constructive criticism on your behalf tears me to shreds. But enough intimate criticism makes even the sanest person second-guess themselves. I can understand you want things done right as pleasures something we both seek. I know you don't want to be chewed up... but give me a chance. And help me to find myself. two selfish once. I wanted you there to hold me and tell me that I am good enough that you've seen the real me and it isn't reject able I want you to tell me that your not letting me defeat you I want you to understand what I always thought you knew and I believe that is asking too much and I know that now and I may have known that then but it is written in the stars tonight the same ones I know you are staring at as well I thought I had something this time I saw the way you looked at me I felt the way you touched me and I walked away from you one night.. when I felt most alone... and now you leave me here completely alone... I don't want to talk ... and I thank you for that because I know you will ask and you know I will cry just know it is for me I am crying and not you because this time I think I lost myself somewhere, maybe I am somewhere in your palm maybe I was never supposed to fit there.... and then maybe you didn't't give me a chance I am sick of crying I am sick of the frustration you offer me so little to understand and I offer to you my life. three****** I am not sure that you will go on Tuesday, for some reason I want you to be there, you said you would be there so most of me still thinks you are going. .. I think I am just testing out your word. Tonight I may find something to the contrary. On this rain stricken night I sit here typing a letter of sorts. I am keeping in mind a dream I had, or what seemed to be a dream of mine that happened less than a week ago on another rainy day. Some of our most beautiful times in life are those that focus on sorrow and decay. Those are the days that have never ended in waking thoughts. That show we went to is one of those days, it hasn't gone away and somewhere in myself I still hear the music and you are still standing beside me. I have said good bye to you so many different ways, ways that weren't't as they occurred at the bus station. Some thoughts more fleeting than others. The more I think about it the less I realize you meant for last Thursday to be our last day. You hadn't thought of the end until it was over. And that I wonder about. I think about us a lot, the wound is still new and as it scars over I am sure the memories will become as soft and real as any others in my mind. But that isn't where we end. I wondered if you were affected. I know you were in the regard that you didn't't want to hurt me, which you knew you did when my body was shaking and the tears were streaming down my face. And I can offer you little help on a guilt level because I genuinely feel that how you made me feel that day was wrong, unintentional but wrong. It feels as though you considered me strong from the instant we met, but when there were strong feelings involved they were kept from me. And in trying not to dwell on this idea again, I ask you this: if you thought me to be so strong then you would have told me when the feelings changed the first time. I am not sure I can forgive you for making me feel used as I now feel (in context of those two weeks and whenever else you felt us to be wrongly intimate). But I cannot change the past and I realize I cannot make you speak when you want nothing but silence. I am sure by now your sadness has passed. And I want you to understand how badly I want you in my life. I wanted to be the last one to leave you, you are an incredible person in my life but as much as you know that is true you are more scared than I have ever been of life. We are different in regards to you worry about things that can be helped and I worry about things that can't be helped. I am not calling you a coward but I am telling you that you are hiding behind a happiness that is not your own and is not tangible. Lifestyles do not make life worth living, faith in yourself and your friends do. Neither of which you have. "Let me tell you a story about a man. A man who is without solitude. A man who is full of judgment when looking at himself. Living life scared. Dying every day. Let me tell you a story about a man who, without his frequented paths, would be as lost as you or i." I wrote that when I first met you, or actually talked to you. It was something I always wanted to share with you, but somewhere we never found time. I had many great times, and I thank you for trusting me and letting me come with you for your trip home to see your sister's graduation. I think I saw something in you that day, walking around the running track, that no one else will ever see. Just know that even if I am not going to be immortalized in your head as "the one" that got away, I know what it was I lost. In that lose I have still found myself curling up with camel Greg and crying tenderly, despite his frazzled fur on top from tears but he seems to take the bad thoughts away. It is selfish for me to say that I hope I never hear of any new girlfriends, but I know how I will feel when I find out of your happiness in a new relationship. I will carry with me a sense that I was not good enough, and although you tried to not make me feel that was wrong that is my ending result. It is on account of my own insecurities and not your words. I hope that you find it in yourself to call from time to time. I would appreciate that, or at least hope I would. And if anything should happen just know I can put aside my own selfish needs to hold you and I can listen to you. As I have said I want to be in your life badly enough that it hurts, but I know the outcome as friends would be more harsh. I hope that when life treats us kindly we can share, and I would like to think that you look forward to reading the stories I write about you (I have actually already written one, but it is still in rough stages and due Tuesday). I miss you with all my heart. I love you *KEll (INsert Address and EMAIl) The necklace was yours from the moment you put it on. I hope it reminds you of the faith I have in you. Wear it with confidence and don't' pass it on to anyone. You need to learn to keep things in your life that are dear to you. Perhaps it is only the little things in life that makes us truly happy. it's so funny now reading these and seeing WHO I am NOw... because i haven't even lived up to my side of any of those things anymore... i guess that girl is still gazing out the window thinking he'll come back to a white picket fence that he looked at a little too long one day.. a little too long because i can remember it.. it makes me sad to know that even if he did come back that girl is dead. although he isn't the same person i wrote these letters for either anymore. love is madness. here's a short story i wrote about him in a class... A Letter to G �I knew I�d always end up your ex-girlfriend, I hope I hold a special place with the rest of them. But you know it makes me sick to be on that list, but I should of thought of that before we kissed.� -No Doubt Greg�s leaving soon again. He may have left today. He always leaves. Greg says he�s coming back. I knew he would be. Or at least I hoped he would. He never stays. He thinks he�s trapped here. I don�t want him to be trapped. I just want to love him if he�d let me. My love is complicated. He doesn�t know if he wants my love. I know he already has it. Greg doesn�t have a home, he just has sofas, couches and arm chairs. Someday he will sleep in his own bed with a door he can lock behind him. People come in and out of his life. He has lost them along the way, lost them when he takes wrong turns. Some of those people mattered. He is never alone despite his solitude. I keep following him, walking in the wake of his footsteps and running beside him when he walks slow enough to let me. Greg is scared that life will be stagnant, so he changes it when it becomes familiar. Sometimes fate changes it for him. It changed life for us when I was lost to become an ex-girlfriend years ago. He tells me he�s frustrated and that he has spent the day wandering in and out of thoughts. He has been letting scenarios play over and over and let the memories build up in his arms. I can see him drop them all at his feet when he looks at me. Greg can take it all in and sort it all out in a way that makes sense to him. I know I am being sorted out, analyzed in ways that compare my life now with my life then when we were lovers and now friends. Greg glances at me. He doesn�t look through me, he knows I am not opaque. I hope he sees a friend who doesn�t want to leave. I can�t remember him calling me beautiful. He had called me cute. I don�t want to be cute. He is beautiful to me. His eyes are electric and warms my skin. I�ve heard him laugh and it echoes through my head in his absence. He is always with me. I can feel him in my thoughts, I can feel him on my skin and I can feel him in my thighs. I want him to touch me again, to hold me tighter than I can hold myself. I want him to breathe me in and let me stay within his lungs. I want to be inside him and warm. I want him inside me. To feel that connection, to feel him touch my lips with his fingers and shelter my face. I want him to tell me to look at him, to acknowledge how much this means to me. To know this is more than sex, to feel our bodies consume each other. I kiss his neck and he is awake. Greg sits there with his eyes mostly closed, stoned. I�ve seen him on drugs, rolling and high. I�ve talked to him when he�s hallucinating and not known it was me. I would dance with him, my body pressed against his, my arms grabbing at nothing, my hands finding their way to his hands. I�ve felt him breathe on my neck, his lonely breathe aching something beyond air. It touches me, it feels me and I inhale it wanting it to be mine. I don�t want to be an ex-girlfriend. I don�t want to think that life with Greg is over. I know Greg still wants me in his life. I had gone so long thinking I would never be invited back, hoping to just see him in front of me, see him on a train platform like I had only once before. I want him to board the same train car that I am on. I don�t want him to be scared that I will push him to do something he doesn�t want. I grope at the possibility of being what he wants. I want him to cradle me again even if it is just in thought. I want to know what he feels. I need to know how he feels. I want him to answer my questions but I�m not sure which to ask him. I wait for anything he is willing to give me. I wait by the mailbox, I wait by the computer and I wait by the phone. Any words will soothe me. His voice will carry me through the nights. I need to know of his safety and contentment even if I am not a part of it. I�ve watched Greg sleep, I�ve watched him twitch and kick and talk to the air. I�ve heard him plead with his dreams. I sleep some nights thinking and wondering if he is awake in the same moments I am. I want him to be thinking about me, thinking about loving me. I want his eyes to close, and for him to hold out his arms to an imaginary me. He needs to know I love him, he needs to know I cry for him. I hug at memories that he has given me. There are smiles that make me feel him again, feel his arms around my waist holding me still so he can look at me. I can see me brush my hair back behind my ear and bite my lip looking up at him wide-eyed trying to interpret his look as I have done so many times before. I want it to be the look of love, but he won�t tell me if it is. makes me wonder if any one ever looked at me this way becaue I never noticed if they did. sorry.

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