To the man who let her go:

You don’t know me. To be perfectly honest, I don’t know you either, but I know of you. I also know your type. I also know and love someone you once claimed to love too. I suppose we have that in common, but that’s where the sameness ends. The biggest difference between us: I am smart enough to see that which was right in front of you and you neglected and abused.

How you could you look into her eyes and not see the love shining back at you? How could you look at that beautiful, soft face and not feel the desire to want to hold her, love her, touch her?

I don’t understand why you kept her at arm’s length. I don’t understand how you missed all the beauty both inside and outside of and around her.

She healed you inside. I know you felt it. I know you felt her healing touch, her love. I know you craved that from her. I crave it too, but I appreciate it, nurture it, treat it like the precious thing it is.

She made you feel like a man. I know. I’ve felt it too. I know you craved that from her as well, which is why you call, still, and try to be something to her that you never were, never will be again.

She never made you happy though, and somehow, you blamed her for that, never realizing that the reason for your unhappiness was inside of yourself, and not her fault… or anyone else’s for that matter.

It would be easy for me to dislike you, even hate you. As I said, I really don’t know you. But I do know that I am angry with you, and I wanted to tell you so. Out of respect for her, I know I’ll never get to tell you this in person. It’s a shame, because part of me wants you to hurt as badly as she was hurt by you.

I’m angry with you because you made it hard for her to trust me. When she and I first met, she was gun shy, afraid to commit, scared to risk her heart again.

I’m angry with you because you made me work harder to win her over, to prove to her that I love her, with all my heart. I never minded the work. She’s worth it. But that was time she and I could have been spending together, in love, sharing our lives, that you took away from us because of the damage you have done.

I’m angry with you that even now, after telling her yourself that she deserved more, you still call her or email or message her asking her to give to you something that is precious and should be reserved for that person who does give her more.

I’m angry that men like you say all the right words, throw all the right guilt, and push all the right lines to make women fall for you, and you abuse and misuse the trust they place in you, making it hard for people like me who would never take advantage of a true heart.

Yes, I’ve held her while she’s cried about you. Yes, I’ve listened to her when she needed to talk about you. Yes, I’ve been there for her when you should have been and weren’t.

And yet, there’s a part of her heart I’ll never hold. That part of her heart she gave to you, that she still, in part, reserves for you… hope, wishful thinking, past dreaming… it just doesn’t matter. You have damaged a part of her that I can never repair, never even touch.

And I hate you for it.

We will never meet, you and I, because you have your wife and she now has me, and life goes on for everyone. I know she still wants to be friends with you, because she’s a good-hearted woman and I would expect nothing less from her, but I know you and your type. The first time you call her up for a little phone sex, “Just one time, just one more time?” and she says no to you again, it’ll be longer before you call the next time, and then longer still, until eventually you just disappear from her life.

Years of friendship, love, gone.

You’ll never even realize how much you’ve lost, how much you let slip right through your fingers.

But I do.

I realize it every night I lay next to her in bed and feel her breathing slowly and put my arm around her waist and even in her sleep she reaches up to hold my hand. I realize it ever time we make love and I see her lips parted, her eyes full of lust and love, hear her rapid breathing and soft moans. I realize it every time I tell her I love her and I see the wonder in her eyes at hearing it.

One day, maybe she’ll fully believe that love, and maybe one day, she won’t flinch at the memory of you and how you used her. Maybe one day she’ll be able to give herself over completely to me without having you wedged in between.

So yeah, I hate you for what you’ve done to her, but I have to thank you for setting her free for me to find and love. You made me work a little harder, but as I said, she’s worth it.

After all, I truly do love her.

I do.

You’ll never know how much you walked away from, but I do.

But I do.

Sincerely,
The one who held her close

Dear Ex Love,

Sometimes, I forget that I’m not supposed to be in love with you anymore.

I walk past your favorite food in the grocery store and think I’d like to buy it for you for dinner. Then I remember I’m not supposed to love you anymore.

I drive by the donut shop on Eight Street and remember when we used to sit there together and eat the hot donuts early in the morning. My heart flutters and I feel those butterflies inside. Then I remember I’m not supposed to love you anymore.

I drive home to the house we used to share, see your car in the drive, and I get excited to see you. Then I remember I’m not supposed to love you anymore.

The problem is, I do love you. I mean, I know we haven’t been able to work things out. I know that life has lead us in different directions and we’ve grown apart. I know that we aren’t meant to be together forever.

But I can’t help but remember the feelings, the love, the ‘real’ between us. It’s not like love can turn on a switch and turn it back off again at a whim. I’m reminded of Kenny Rogers’ song, “I can’t unthink about you. I can’t unfeel your touch…” It’s true. I can’t unlove you.

So when you’re packing up our lives and moving part of it away from me, I hope you know that somewhere in the pictures, the remnants, the memories… there, buried beneath all that past, is my love for you.

And maybe, when it comes time to divide up his and hers, yours and mine, and we walk away from the singular life we were supposed to live together, until death, and both begin living our new lives, separately, we can be kind to each other.

Maybe through the lawyers, the courts, the judges, the mediation and separation of property, we can look fondly at each other and remember the love, honor it.

Because even though I know we aren’t going to be together anymore, my heart hasn’t quite figured out yet that I’m not supposed to love you anymore. Somewhere inside of you, I know you feel the same way. Just because we can’t be together anymore doesn’t mean we have to release the love, the one good thing that was between us.

I learned a long time ago that sometimes love just isn’t enough. It wasn’t for us. Still, I need to believe that love matters, even if it’s not enough to hold together.

Someday, maybe I’ll look back and remember that I once loved you. It’s going to be awhile before that happens though, because right now, my heart just doesn’t understand yet that I’m not supposed to love you anymore.

Love,
Your soon to be ex wife

What the Hell, Wendy!

You always said we could tell each other anything. Then, when I do tell you how I feel, you stop talking to me. Well, I’ve barely scratched the surface of what I wanted to say to you.

First, being involved in all this drama makes me sick. Our husbands are brothers, connected by blood. Just like their mother, and their sisters, and everyone else in the family that you two never talk to anymore.

Am I just another one of them, another person in the family you don’t want to deal with?

I don’t want to care, but I find myself not being able to avoid caring. You have always prided yourself on being an honest person who in return can hear honesty from her friends. What happened to that person? Would you rather I lied to you?

Well, honey, from a distance, it appears you are the one tearing everyone apart. Jack never ignored his mother before you. He never acted like his brother wasn’t also his friend, and he never disappointed his family and friends like he has since he’s been with you.

Don’t get me wrong. Everyone understands you all are a family now. We know how much he loves you. It is completely obvious how much he loves all the kids. No one who really cares about him could deny him that.

What I don’t understand is why he doesn’t stand up and tell everyone how he feels. If he is really the one who doesn’t want anything to do with the family, then you need to tell him that he should be the one to stand up and say something. Don’t you think that would be better? People wouldn’t blame you then.

If you ask me, Jack needs to grow some balls and stand up for what he believes in, and spare you the pain and suffering, if that truly is the case.

But, you see, nobody believes it is Jack making the decisions because no one ever gets to talk to him. When they do get to talk to him, you speak for him and over him. Think of how you would feel if you asked me to go bowling but my husband spoke before I could and said, “She doesn’t like bowling.”

Do you see what I mean? It would “appear” he is the one making the decisions for me.

The second thing I want to tell you is that nobody likes people who lie. Just don’t do it; it makes people not trust you. I know you lied when Jack’s sister invited you over. You said Jack didn’t want to go, and then you conveniently had company that night, and to top it off, someone actually heard you say you did not want to go.

You know what? Suck it up!

Having family is a part of life. Both his family and yours are tied into our lives. No, it won’t always be a wonderful experience, but when someone dies, you’ll be spared the guilt of being the one who blamed for the distance. He says that would not happen, but you should know better.

People tell me what you two do is none of my business. Well, it is my business, because when you tell your lies, or even just ignore others, I am the one who has to make excuses for you. My husband and I are dragged into the middle of this because you and Jack won’t talk to anyone.

Is it that freaking hard to pick up the phone?

Well, I guess we don’t have to worry about that now since you aren’t talking to me either.

Another thing I have to tell you is that I am not stupid. I know that you don’t like my husband. You have lied to me for a long time and said you loved him like a brother and all that junk. Well, I hear and I see things. The point being, I don’t really care if you like my husband.

That never prevented me from being your friend.

I think you are being very childish. Sending expensive electronics to school with children to return them to me, instead of getting off your high horse and calling me or bringing it to a responsible adult, is childish. I don’t blame my husband one bit for calling you guys and saying he didn’t appreciate it. It could have been stolen or damaged.

I have an email even, so if you didn’t want to talk to me you could have given me a heads up and just sent a message.

Well, I really have a million more things to say. However, my main point has been addressed.

In closing, I would like to say that I love you. You are my sister and for you to ever think that just because I told you something true that I wouldn’t want to be your friend is just stupid. Yeah, you’re stupid for being able to dish it out, but not being able to take it.

Furthermore, it breaks my heart someone I considered a mature, loving, caring, supportive best friend could act so immaturely.

Sometimes you have to tell your friends the truth, even if they don’t want to hear it. That is what real friends do. You should realize if someone cares enough to tell you when you are wrong, they probably really are your friend. People who don’t care don’t care enough to say anything.

Love J.

~~~~

Jennifer Wright is a mother of four, military wife, and aspiring writer. She is currently attending North Idaho College and pursuing her degree in English. Jennifer has several articles published on the internet, but hopes to pursue her dream of fiction writing.

Brian,

When you left, I wanted to be angry. I couldn’t find it in me, but I wanted to be angry. Sometimes, in anger, you find strength and I desperately needed strength. But I couldn’t get angry. The only thing I felt was sadness. Overwhelming sadness.

You left me for someone else. You lied about it, but I knew the truth. I had always known the truth, all along, but knowing and wanting to see or act on the truth are different things. I was miserable, but somehow, I was comfortable in my misery. It was familiar. It was… safe?

As I knew would happen, you left… and that’s when I wanted to be angry. Eventually, a few months later, the anger did hit me, and the more I became angry, the more I learned about the truth of your deception… oh, how many months I played a fool.

What fueled my anger? I was angry that you thought I was stupid enough that I didn’t know.

I knew. I knew all along. I was imply too tired, too miserable and too sick to do anything about it.

So you did what I couldn’t bring myself to do and you left. You left me for her. I will never forget the day when I discovered the whole, unadulterated truth of adultery… your adultery, infidelity. You broke my trust, but that wasn’t really even the worst of it. You kept me hanging on by a thin thread, ‘just in case’ things didn’t work out between you and the whore who you let seduce you.

Typically I wouldn’t call the other woman a whore, because I’d figure she was simply lied to by you as much as I was, but in this case, it was very clear she knew exactly what the score was when she posted blog posts laughing about how stupid I was for not knowing how long this had all been going on. She laughed, reveled in it.

You used me, and yet, I truly put as much fault and blame on her as I do on you. You see, you used me, but that’s just who you are. She knew better and chose to act the way she did. I don’t think you can help it. It’s not an excuse, but it’s the truth.

So when you came to me and I finally confronted you, I told you then, “She’s going to cheat on you, do to you what you just did to me, and she’s going to break your heart and trust. I hope I’m there to see it when it happens.”

Guess what? I was there. It happened, and I was there.

And I learned something. It’s true that what goes around comes around. It’s true that we get back what we put out into the world. It’s also true that living well truly IS the best revenge.

When you asked me if I was happy, and I said I was, I could clearly hear the sadness in your voice. You had hope… hope, such a volatile little word. I had hope once. I had hope for a family and a friend and a lover who I could trust, who would treat me right, never hurt me, never break my trust. You promised those things to me, and you failed.

Now it’s you who comes back to me and has hope. You want me back. You regret so much. You miss me and wish you had never made the mistakes you have made. You still love me.

But I don’t love you anymore.

Do you know how powerful it is to be able to say that and truly mean it?

See, I don’t wish you ill will. I don’t want you to hurt. I’ve moved past you and on with me life. There was a time I sought revenge and wished you ill, but I don’t anymore. Now, I just want you out of my life. I don’t hurt for you anymore. I’m not angry anymore. I’m not sad, not upset, not worried, not bothered… I simply… don’t… care.

Retribution.

Universal justice.

And I didn’t have to do a thing to make that happen.

I’m not happy you’re hurting, but I don’t hurt for you. I’m not taking pleasure in your pain, but I’m not feeling pain for or with you. I’m not excited that my prophecy came true.

But I am satisfied.

So did I write this letter to gloat, brag about how good my life is?

No.

I wrote this letter because I want to thank you. I want to thank you for treating me so horribly that I could recognize, truly treasure, when someone came along who treats me good. I want to thank you for leaving, so that I was free to choose to love when he did come along. I want to thank you for being strong enough or stupid enough to walk away when I was not strong enough to do so for myself.

I also want to thank you for giving me back my faith in the universe, perhaps even my faith in God. I’ve always been told that you reap what you sow, that what goes around comes around, that what you put out there comes back to you multiplied.

Guess what? You proved that. Thank you for proving that to me. That you for affirming my faith in universally dealt justice. Because, you see, if it’s true that you reap what you sow, I’ve planted a nice harvest in my world, my life, my heart. I know now that it will all come back around for me.

In fact, it’s already started…. It started when he said, “I do, with all my heart, I do…” and it continued when you said your life had come full circle.

Now I move forward firm in the knowledge that I will get my due, reaping a harvest of love, faith, generosity and gratitude.

For the first time since you left, I can honestly say, “I wish you well…”

No longer yours,
Karla

Dear Aimless Drifter,

You presented a solid image to the world of a hardworking man trying to do right by his children and help others in need. Having an ex-husband who did not care for our children, it was nice to see a father trying to connect with his.

We found common ground in our love of writing and of past relationships. We had a nice friendship. When you were down and out, I offered you a hand up, because I thought you were worthy of such help. I invited you into my home as a roommate. For the first few days, things were wonderful.

On your fourth night, you entered my bedroom without knocking, woke me and asked to cuddle, knowing I was in a long-term relationship. I had made that clear when we first began talking. Your hugs, though never returned, were plentiful, even after I told you I did not like them. You even told me you loved me in front of my boyfriend to get a reaction.

You grabbed my ass in the local store where my boyfriend works, as well as the grocery store, and you did not care who saw. I quit going any place with you after the third night in public you grabbed my ass.

My sister came to visit one day and you hit on her so much she did not return while you lived in my house. Neither did my best friend you also treated like that. In fact, you hit on every woman you saw in my hometown between the ages of sixteen and fifty and called it, “Turning on the southern charm. You even had the audacity to come on to my daughter, knowing she was engaged to be married.

We helped you find a job; actually, you had two for the month you lived here: One at a fast food place where you were let go on the second day because you told the manger he was doing his job wrong and were overheard telling ‘adult jokes’ to the teenage boys who worked there. This was the ‘on the books job’ to pay your child support, and you tossed it away.

The second job was a taxi driver, and you got this job because of my good word. I vouched for you because you needed a job. You made it for two weeks at this job.

You went to a local nursing home for a job in dietary with my daughter, and the boss threatened you with a sexual harassment lawsuit if you ever returned to her office. Apparently, you think flirting with the women is how you secure jobs.

You went into the local burger joint in the midst of breakfast rush and requested a hamburger on your croissant rather than sausage because the sign outside said, “Have it Your Way!” A quick call to the 800 number and you said you felt vindicated.

You called the fast sandwich place after getting home with the sandwiches you had purchased and told the manager to complain about the girl at the window who did not put your drink top on correctly and it spilled all over the seat. After spending five minutes on the phone telling that manger how to do his job, you unwrapped your sandwich, which at that point had gone cold. Again, you called the manger to complain about your cold sandwich. He told you to bring it in to exchange it for a fresh one. When you return to my house, you are laughing because the girl at the window walked off her job because you went to talk to the manager.

A quick trip into the local convenience store ended with you asking all three females for their phone number. You complained to the manger that your sandwich was not prepared properly. In fact, you continued to bring it up on other visits until you were barred from the local convenience store. Then you wrote an open commentary on the internet describing your treatment at the convenience store and told the owner in an open letter to the world how bad his stores were.

See here in Small Town America conmen like you cannot hide. Word spreads quickly. You could not even walk into any place in town to get something to eat. Your welcome with everyone quickly wore out. I know just about every thing you did here and I am so embarrassed to have even befriended you.

I do not know where the wind has blown you, but I am so glad you are gone. Perhaps one day you will look in the mirror and realize you are nothing more than an aimless drifter.

Sincerely,
Not your friend, thank the Good Lord

My Dear Ex Friend,

The idea of this letter has been in my head for several years. I never wrote it before because I didn’t want to hurt your feelings or put you on the spot about your behavior.

I guess what I need to know is this: What happened? What changed? What’s your problem?

Our friendship, I thought, was lifelong. We became friends in the first grade, and we soon became permanent fixtures in each other’s lives and families. I knew everything about you; you knew everything about me. We became roommates in college and shared our lives–good and bad–with each other.

When you married, you asked me to be your maid of honor. When I married, you were mine. I met your little girl shortly after her birth. My husband and I took time out of our lives and drove to your home to meet your daughter. This visit involved a drive of several hours, but that is was what we did. That’s what friends do.

Now, it’s my turn to express my enormous disappointment in you and our friendship. Shortly after I announced my pregnancy, things changed with you. You didn’t call or email as much. We would get the random photo or card in the mail, but not much else. At my baby shower, you were two hours late. Your gift looked like you stopped on your way and picked out whatever you could find on the clearance rack and then threw in a little stuffed toy for good measure.

After we had our baby boy, I invited you to come up and meet him. You didn’t come. I should remind you that we live in the same hometown that we grew up in, the same town your parents and grandparents still live in. This trip would not have been out of your way. I continued to invite you to our house every weekend for the first seven months of our son’s life. Your response would have been one of the following: “I can’t. I have to work”; “Maybe, I’ll let you know later” (However, I would never hear from you later.); and I even received this one a few times, “Yeah, I’ll call you when I’m getting ready to leave.” (Guess what? I never got a phone call and you never showed up.)

After seven months of playing this game, I was done. I continued to respond, although not as enthusiastically, to your emails and stuff. Then, our son’s first birthday arrived. Should I invite you or should I just forget about it? Well, I decided to invite you. A year had gone by and you had yet to meet him; maybe this would finally be the breaking point.

Oh, my goodness! You responded and it was a yes!

Finally! Oh, but you’ll have to come early because you have plans late that evening. Well, the party started at one o’clock, so I would think that would leave you enough time, but whatever. At least you’re actually going to come. The week of the party, you sent a birthday card to my son. That’s weird, if you were planning on coming to the party why would you mail the birthday card ahead of time. Why?

Oh, well, at least you were coming to the party. The day of the party arrived and you didn’t come early. It was one o’clock and you were still not there. The party was over and you never showed. You never called. I wondered what happened.

Later that evening, I received an email from you. Something came up, on that Saturday afternoon that just had to be taken care of. You hoped I understood.

Really, you hoped I’d understand. Well, maybe if it hadn’t been 365 days since my child was born and you still had yet to meet him, I would have understood. But, no, I don’t really care what came up. I don’t care one little bit. I don’t understand.

I am angry and I am done… again. I stopped all contact with you for almost two months. No response to emails, nothing. Then, I began to feel bad and once again, I call you. Everything seemed fine, as we talked on the phone, so what do I do? I invite you to our home, once again, for the following weekend. Your response was an astounding yes and you said you’d call me later when you knew which day you would be up. I’m so happy again.

Well, later that week, I never heard from you. You never came.

You have still not met my son.

Let me tell you what my life has been like since then. I spent about a week crying, a lot, even crying myself to sleep. The realization had finally set in that you didn’t care about me or my family. We are not friends anymore. When a long, 20 plus year friendship, ends, without any real explanation, it’s a very difficult thing to understand.

Did I hurt you somehow? I don’t recall. Did I offend you? No, I don’t think so. I talked to other people about what they think happened. The overall conclusion was that you became jealous of me for one reason or another. Maybe you saw how happy I was and you were envious of that, because you were not happy and you did not want me to know about your relationship troubles.

Maybe you were jealous because I was quitting work to be a stay at home mother. Maybe you were jealous over our new home. There were a lot of theories, but nothing that anyone knew for sure.

Shortly after our last conversation, I found out I was pregnant again. We now have two children that you will probably never meet. We have moved into our new home, which you will probably never visit. A lot has changed, for the good and bad that you will never know. Our friendship is gone. I am over it and healing has occurred. I don’t want or need anything from you. I have moved on. I still don’t know what happened, and I don’t really need to know anymore.

You did need to hear these words, though. You did need to know how much you hurt me. Oh well, once again, I am saying: I am done.

Signed,
No Longer Your Friend

~~~

Kristi Cramer is a freelance writer, mother of two precious little boys, and former educator. She writes nonfiction articles on parenting, family and education. She is currently trying her hand at fiction writing and story-telling. Please visit her blog site at www.raisegoodkids.today.com

Interestingly enough, this letter was original written and not truly intended to be given to the recipient.As fate would have it, the universe intervened and these two friends were reunited, though it was never quite the same. After the reunion, this letter was shared, in part, with the recipient. After this letter was shared, a second letter was written.

The first letter is available here on the blog. The second part of this letter, the conclusion of the story of this friendship, will only be available in the print collection when it comes out.

We will update with more information about this story before the Unsent Letters Volume One book is released. Thank you, Lindsay, for sharing your heart with us all.

Dear Amisa,

A year ago, when there was still a gaping place in my heart where you once lived, I wrote this to you:

Dear Former Best Friend (for reasons I don‘t know),

Yep, I still exist. Try as you might to forget your former life and everyone in it, I’m still here. I still think about you far more often than I’d like. For the record, I’m not crazy psycho or anything. Little things, like last night when I sang karaoke to She’s In Love With the Boy by myself instead of a part of our little duet, make you pop into my mind again. Every time you come crawling back into my thoughts, it rips open the hole in my heart I thought had healed.

It has been three years since I last heard from you. Three years ago, you were my sister-in-law, but so much more than that. You were my best friend. My confidant. Someone who cried and laughed with me and always seemed to know the perfect thing to say to make me smile. I would never in a million… no, umpteen billion years have guessed you could turn your back on me and cut me out of your life forever, without so much as a warning or explanation as to why.

I had a dream about you the other night. In my dream, you came back, and you and Derek were still divorced. At first, I was overjoyed to have my best friend back, but it didn’t take long before realization flooded my body. You had hurt me.

“I hate you!” I spat into your face.

Ever the people-pleaser, even in my dreams, I took it back immediately and simply explained the pain you had caused me. In the end, I forgave you. That forgiveness felt freeing in my dream, like a weight had been released from my heart, and it persisted even after I awoke. This feeling of reconciliation with my own pain made me want to write you, but I knew better. Many times I tried to contact you in these past years. No matter how friendly my letter was, you never responded.

When are you going to break this silence? It destroys my soul to know you’re out there and I don’t know how you are, or what’s going on in your life. What hurts me more is that I care deeply for you, and I can only assume from your actions that you feel nothing for me. It boggles my mind how you could flip the switch between, “You’re like a sister to me, Lindsay,” and, “You’re dead to me,” with seemingly no remorse.

I am mad at myself for even thinking about you anymore, wasting my precious thoughts on someone who has caused me such pain. I don’t want to think about you. I don’t want to wonder how you’re doing or if I’ll ever see you again. I hate wondering what it would be like if we did bump into one another. I wonder if you would ignore me, or run up and hug me. In case you’re wondering, I would prefer the hug. I hate this, I hate this distance. I hate thinking that you’re out there somewhere, possibly mad at me for reasons I cannot comprehend.

Please forgive me for whatever I did to cause this silence. Please know that if I said anything that made you think I was anything but supportive of you, that I didn’t mean it. And I’m not talking about you and Derek. That’s done, it’s over, you guys have moved on and I have too. Derek is my brother-in-law and I love him, but I know as well as both of you, that it takes two people to ruin a marriage. What I’m talking about here is you and me.

I accept that we’re never going to be best friends again, but can we at least be on talking terms? I am not going to disappear simply because you don’t talk to me, Amisa. I am still here, and despite my best efforts to convince myself you don’t deserve my love, I still care about you and your happiness. I know it’s painful and weird that I’m a part of your ex-family, but we’re all still here. Your name pops up in conversations, and we get sad. It’s almost like you died, Mis, only you’re still walking around, safe and sound. But to us, to me, it’s like you don’t exist. We were used to talking to you all the time, especially Mom and me. Then all of the sudden, one day, *poof* it’s all gone, you’re gone, and you left us behind without even a goodbye.

I don’t do this. I don’t think about former friends this much. Most of my former friends were idiots anyway, not worth spending the extra time thinking about. But you are not in that category. I could tell you anything, Mis. You know stuff about me that most people don’t know. I trusted you with such personal information because I trusted you, and you let me down. The last letter I have from you was mean and hurtful. I held onto it until about a year ago and then decided I had harbored that upsetting memory long enough. But deleting the email didn’t delete you out of my mind.

Though sometimes I wish it had.

I don’t hate you. I’m not even mad at you. I’m completely over all of those feelings because life is too short to live it holding resentment for people you once loved. So here I am, I’m telling you I love you and I miss you and I want to be friends, or at least friendly acquaintances with you. I hope you can somehow feel the same.

I forgive you, Amisa. I forgive you for not giving me a reason why you decided to stop talking to me all of a sudden. I forgive you because you were hurting and maybe confused, and didn’t know who to trust. I forgive you because at one time I know you loved me like a sister. I know you did. And I felt the same way.

So here’s a letter I will never send to you. I’m not certain you deserve for me to send it to you. In fact, I don’t know if you deserve my friendship after all of the hurt and pain you’ve put me through. I guess I would merely like to know why, and it kills me that I will probably never have an answer to that question.

I hope you find happiness, Amisa. I hope you have figured out what was making you so incredibly unhappy. I hope you have done some intense soul searching, that you have been brought to your knees and gradually picked yourself up. I hope you’re stronger, I hope you’re happier.

I hope you truly did consider me as close to you as a sister. I hope that wasn’t a lie, because that’s how I felt about you. I will not send this letter to you, making me vulnerable yet again, pouring my heart out to you, only for you to ignore me once more. I can’t do that to myself anymore. You need to find me when you’re ready.

I pray someday, you will.

Love,
Lindsay

~~~

Lindsay Maddox is a freelance writer, humorist, and Mommy extraordinaire. She mainly produces nonfiction articles on parenting, but recently found her true love in fiction writing. Lindsay will be published in Elements of the Soul, a Short Story Anthology in 2009. Please visit her author’s website at: http://site.lindsaymaddox.com/