The Letter I Never Intend to Send

Since the end of last year, I have been struggling with feelings for a friend.  I told him how I felt, he told me he felt the same and I got a warm fuzzy, and then things got weird and have remained so ever since.  So, I’ve been devoting a great deal of time and energy to rehashing this situation and considering letting go of a friend and all of this dramatic stuff.  It was always going to be dramatic, given the fact that my self-esteem found a boost only to have it be dashed to the ground, but it just seemed excessive.  Anyway, cut to an interaction that I had with my “friend” the other day, in which I managed to bring up some of what has been bothering me about our friendship.  As always, though, I felt unsatisfied at the end of it because I didn’t manage to say everything I wanted to; couldn’t make myself understood.  I just felt…unresolved.  So, I cried to myself on my way to dance class, I enjoyed the class, but still couldn’t stop thinking about it, I cried to my mom after the class…  I bucked up after that, bought some necessities from Target (pronounced Tar-jzhay, french, haha, but I don’t know how to write out the phonetics).

Cut to last night, when I thought it might be beneficial to write him a letter.  Then, I talked myself out of giving him a letter because I couldn’t be sure that he would get it in a timely fashion, or read it, or have an adequate response, which I shouldn’t be looking for in the first place, but I digress.  So, I thought about the exercise of writing the letter and how I’ve heard it can be cathartic.  So, I did.  I wrote the letter.  I think it forced me to be fair, to really say what I’ve been thinking without infusing it with all of the hurt I’ve been feeling, which has a habit of manifesting itself in negative ways.  So, I have the letter in one of my many journals and it felt good to write it.

The moral of my story is that it’s not so much about what he does at this point, but about what I do and being in touch with my feelings.  I try to be fair, but sometimes I forget my part in all of this.  I go back and forth about how I’m at fault and how he’s at fault, but at the end of the day, I just need to move on and not expect my closure to come from him.

So, I wrote a letter that I never intend to send.  But maybe one day I will intend to send it.  One day I’ll be ready.


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