Dear love,

Is it really that hard to say that you love me in front of someone else? I don’t understand. I listen to you talk to a friend on the phone and you end the conversation with, “I love you!” You do it so easily because you know no one is going to mistake that love as anything other than the love of a friend for another friend.

Then, last night, when I called you and you were with someone else, and when I said, “I love you,” you fell silent. You tried to compensate with something about having a good night, or seeing me soon, but the pause and missing profession of love was evident, palpable, tangible. I realize it’s because of multiple reasons, who you were with not wanting to or ready to answer questions, and also because, knowing your own feelings, you fear they would show more than the love you expressed to your friend. Read the rest of this entry »

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

Dear you,

When you got off work that night, I expected you to come home, like you always did.

But you didn’t.

Three days later, me frantic with worry and having called all your friends and family, you finally called me. I’ll never forget those words, “I can’t do this anymore.”

Did you take that line from one of the cheesy nighttime soap opera type dramas you used to watch all night long instead of talking to me? Maybe you heard that line on one of the sim-type video games you played all day long instead of being a part of the household, a part of the family.

I don’t know where the line came from, and even more than that, I’m not sure what you meant by, “I can’t do this anymore.”

Do what? You can’t sit around all day while I wait on your hand and foot, working 12 plus hours per day, while you work your 20 hour per week part-time job? Or maybe it’s that you can’t sit around and do nothing but eat my home cooked meals? Or maybe you are so worn out from all the lovemaking we weren’t doing?

Really, what exactly was it that you couldn’t do anymore?

So then, without even talking to me about what was going on, where you were going, who you were going to live with… nothing, you come by, tell me you wanted to pick up your things. I sat on the bed, watching you pack your clothes, numb, cold. Ice.

“Are you going to help me pack?” you asked.

Are you serious? “No,” I said, choking back tears, “if you’re going to do this, you’re doing it on your own.”

It would be the first thing you did all by yourself in our entire relationship.

If I’d known then what I know now, I wouldn’t only have helped you pack, I would have asked you to leave sooner.

You walked out the door, but you didn’t walk out of my life. Oh, how I wish you had.

A few months later, in a phone call, you had the nerve to say, “I guess we both made mistakes.”

Was that your version of closure? Trying to get me to take some blame? No, I didn’t make mistakes. I had and have nothing to apologize for.

I did nothing wrong.

I held you when you cried. I initiated sexual activity while you rejected me. I cooked for you. I cleaned for you. I washed your clothes and had them ready for work. I made and packed your lunches for your part-time job. I waited on your hand and foot, doing all the things a ‘good little wife’ would do. I listened to every story. I laughed at every joke. I loved you the best way I knew how.

The only thing you could accuse me of doing wrong was working too much, but with a growing family, and you only having a part-time job, someone had to pay the bills.

That someone was me.

So you’ve come and gone, moved on to the person you cheated on me with, and likely have moved on to the next person you cheated with too.

Nothing of you remains in my house, my life, my heart.

But still, I think of you. There’s no love behind it. There is, however, a residual sadness… a sadness I cannot explain and do not understand. A sadness I do not choose to touch. And yet, it lingers there.

Unfinished business.

There is no closure. It’s a self-destructive thing that I won’t give you closure, because by failing to give you closure, I deny myself that closure too.

Though I’ve moved on, though I am happy, though I’m finally with my heart’s desire whom I love so very much, I still can’t give you the one thing you need and want.

Apparently, I couldn’t give it to you when we were together, so now we aren’t together. Now that we aren’t together, I refuse to give you want you want.

You don’t deserve it.

But I do want to thank you. Thank you for making the choice to leave, a choice I should have made but wasn’t strong enough to do. My life has become infinitely better since.

Goodbye,
Me

—

The writer of this piece wishes to remain anonymous, but will be reading your comments, so please leave some!

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 Sean,

Dear Ryan,

In this world, I thought I was smart, learned, educated… I had been through hell, been to heaven, and everywhere in between…
so much I had experienced, so much I thought I knew.

And then there was you.

I learned from you that as much as I thought I knew, I had only begun to understand and know the world around me. I never knew the sky could be quite so blue or a sunset so beautiful as when I watched it through your eyes, watching me.

I never knew what family really meant.

I never knew the comfort of complete, unconditional acceptance.

I never knew that friendship didn’t have to take a backseat to passion.

I never knew passion didn’t have to take a backseat to friendship.

I never knew true friendship.

I never knew true passion.

I never knew love.

No, I mean real love.

I never knew freedom. Freedom to be myself.

Safety.

Security.

I never knew I was beautiful.

I never knew I was worthy.

I never knew how humble I was until you were proud of me.

I never knew me.

To think that I could have lived my entire life without you, thinking I knew so much, when all I ever needed was to know you in order to know everything.

You are every romantic cliche ever written and every love song ever sung. Your name is whispered in every line of every piece of poetry I read and write. Where once I only wrote the words, where once I could only sometimes feel them, now I live the words I write, with passion…

…and understanding.

I never knew I was alive until you taught me how to live. I never knew how much I had, until you showed me how to give.

I never knew…

… and then there was you.

And now I know.

~~~

Michelle L Devon (Michy) is a writer, editor, poet… she’s also a professional dreamer. In fact, she created Unsent Letters, and decided that since it’s her baby, she can put up a letter of her own today! Enjoy!

M.,

Here I am again, awakening at the dawn of reflection. All I feel is love for you. All I see when I open my eyes is you.

Within my love for you lives sadness, for the pain we are sure to impart on one another is great, and very powerful. Powerfully painful… and powerfully fertile ground for seeds waiting to grow from our dirt.

The essence of all great love stories’ beauty lies in the truth and tragedy of the human condition.

Tragic is the lovers’ undying determinism to hold on tightly to a force much bigger, and more fluid, than what any human can grip in their hands. Love must not be held prisoner by the hedonistic desires or frightened fists of humans. If we grab at it, we will miss it.

There is so much I want to set free in you. It is a matter of harnessing and using the radiance that is capable of mystifying my own chains and leading them to soften.

I don’t want to apologize again. But here I am immortalizing the sentiment.

My feelings for you are never easy to describe… in letters or words or sentences. Because these things impose the filter of logic upon the purity of emotion. But look, here I am, writing my dissertation on the meaning or meaninglessness of true love.

Tonight, may we both stop thinking. Let us both be still. In comfort. Please receive the heat coming off my skin and through your hand… forget the pain of this lonely winter day we’ve spent frozen in the mind’s misunderstanding of the heart.

L.

~~~
Liz is a freelance writer and photographer who lives, loves, laughs and plays in Hawaii half the year and Colorado the other half. To learn more about Liz, visit her blog at: http://dreaminginrealtime.blogspot.com/