Tuesday, October 5, 2010

An Open Letter to Someone I Sincerely Hope Isn't Reading

I've always been better on paper than I am in person. Something to do with the anonymity, probably – it ends up that that which is written is much more significant than she who writes it. This round, I'm not sure if print is really the ideal medium. What I want to say is too important to me to be separated from me, and letting it stand on its own, letting you forget that I'm the one that's saying it... that doesn't seem like a good idea.

So even as I write this, I know I'll never show it to you. Not this version, and not its fourth revision, which is undoubtedly on its way. Maybe it's a waste of time to be writing this at all, but I guess part of me wants it down somewhere as proof that I feel something, even if my actions have never really proved it.

I always thought of you as a friend, but even more than a friend, one of those rare people that somehow, in some odd twist of events, becomes a good friend. Granted, I also always found you attractive, and I suppose that can't completely be disregarded, but you were a friend.

It took me by surprise one day as we mused over a beverage or a meal (I can't remember which) that I thought of you as more. People say those moments are unforgettable, but I fought so hard against it that the moment it popped into my head is trumped by the moment I let it stay there.

People probably don't usually fight those things, but I guess that's just one of many ways I'm completely dysfunctional because, given my history with feelings, I try not to have them. Everything changes when you let feelings become involved, and I really, really liked the way things were. But now that things are, inevitably, different, this ends one of three ways:
  1. I admit my feelings for you, and you reciprocate. Or, probably more likely, vice versa, because I'm horrible with admissions. And we all live happily ever after.
  2. I admit my feelings for you and you don't reciprocate. Which means we'll stop speaking for a bit while my wounds heal. Then maybe once I'm sure you believe I've moved on, we'll start speaking again. But things will never be what they were.
  3. I don't admit my feelings and gradually hanging out with you will be too painful to be worth my while. (If I were a betting woman...)
I was talking about this with a friend because hashing out feelings is something I'm not particularly good at on my own. And because I so rarely admit feelings to be real, my friends tend to take them seriously when I do. She asked me if I loved you because this particular friend was on a love kick (she had a new boyfriend, and everything in her life was hearts and unicorns). Given that my life lands more often among the fire-breathing than the prancing mythical creatures, my response was something along the lines of, "Jesus fucking Christ, that's a little premature."

I stopped after a moment, and reminded her that of course, I love you as a friend, and that part of me wants to believe I do as something more, but I know from experience that all of that either gets validated or destroyed with the first kiss. After all this, it seems, I can't really tell you anything.


  1. "JESUS FUCKING CHRIST that's a little premature."

    hhahahahha I LOVE YOU.

  2. i was trying really hard to not swear but it just wasn't me without the foul language.

  3. The thing about keeping a blog is that somewhere deep down, you must want someone to see it. Otherwise why not just write a word document and save it? Or hell, do it the old school way and write it down on a piece of paper or in a diary, never to be shown to anyone, save your future self when you look back in time. I find that when I wrote, I always had a certain person who I wanted to see what I was writing, a friend, the girl I liked, my worst enemy. But the thing is, you can't just SHOW it to those people. That would defeat the purpose. You have to hope that somehow they are interested enough in you that they will find it on their own, stumble through the ether of the Internet so they will see this post that you wrote just for them. But they never do. People don't read your blog. And you don't want to put it out there cause you're afraid of looking desperate. So eventually you stop writing. And oh God, what if the wrong people read it and think it's for them?

  4. The thing about keeping this blog is that it's not a diary, it's a collection of thoughts, of reactions, of fact and of fiction. Yes, I want someone to see it. But not any specific person. I'm a writer, of course I want someone to read what I write. Anyone. Because I know people can relate to it. Everyone's been here: wondering.

    No one is going to read this post and think it's for them, even one of the 6 people I drew upon to write this. It's not about a person, it's about a feeling.

    And if I were afraid of looking desperate, I wouldn't write about relationships on the internet. So please, before you start making judgements about who I am or what I feel, know that this forum, this collection of words, is not how you'd know me.

  5. My apologies. That came out wrong.

  6. Why are you apologizing? You're anonymous. I can't be mad at or forgive a figment of the internet's imagination. Shoo.