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Dear Dustin,
I miss you today. A lot.
Sometimes I wish I could talk to you. We had so many good conversations, especially towards the end.
My mind keeps running in circles, towards memories of our sojourn into the real world. When we moved.
And it wasn’t working for me. Sometimes I wish nothing would have changed.
Sometimes I’m not even sure if my feelings were legitimate, or if I was just running from the power of them.
If I made a snap decision.
If I’ll really come to regret it in the coming months.
You knew me so well.
Sometimes I pretend that you didn’t actually know me, that I’m a hard-headed, cold-hearted motherfucker.
That I never let you get close.
Well, that’s a lie.
You told me that you didn’t want to hear me bitching and complaining in a week that I regretted the decision.
So I didn’t.
I’m locking this up in myself so tight, because in the end, I’m still not good enough for you.
And I’ve made my bed.
And I made too many mistakes along the way.
I wish you were here to diffuse your warmth, your stillness, your calm into me.
That I was still curled up in the recliner with the Xbox controller in my hands.
Playing Fallout, or Fable….or Skyrim.
That you were maybe making me dinner, and reading those stupid fucking articles.
Tears are rolling down my face.
Maybe I’m finally grieving.
Maybe this is the first time that I’ve had the courage to write you a letter.
A letter that will never see the light of day,
because I can’t repair the damage of the fires of us.
And you can’t do this again.
And I’m reasonably sure that it isn’t what i want.
I’m not healthy.
I’m very, very broken.
Especially today, for some reason.
Nobody sees this pain.
I don’t let them.
They wouldn’t understand.
What we had seemed so fucking deep, and true.
And then it faded so gently that I didn’t even notice at first.
You asked me to promise that I wouldn’t lose myself in him,
and I promised.
And then I did it anyway.
Sometimes I wonder if it’d be better just to end it all.
The other day, I was driving, just thinking, what if I just killed myself?
Wouldn’t it be easier?
I started shaking so bad that I had to play some bullshit music to calm down.
I am so out of my element.
And I am so fucking scared.
You would have pulled me into your arms and said "let it out" and i would have sobbed helplessly for awhile and gotten ahold of myself.
Your fingers would have smoothed over my hair, and you would have just held me for awhile.
Nothing, no one, will replace you.
I will just have to learn to live without.
For the first time.
God I’m a wreck.
I hope you’re ok out there,
and that, if you think of me, it isn’t all made of resentment or bitterness or hatred.
That maybe there’s some love in there.
Even if I don’t deserve it.
Love,
Amanda