Posted in exercises

30 Day Writing Challenge (Day 23)

Day 23: Write a letter to someone.


I owe you an explanation.

Because I need you to understand, it wasn’t just you or just me: we were both toxic for each other, validating our worst behaviors and allowing each other to be our worst selves, calling that acceptance, declaring that our truth.

But the truth–the real truth, the truth we didn’t want to deal with–is that we are so much more than what we are in our lowest moments. We are more than depression, than anxiety, than fear, than anger.

We are both so good at being angry.

And goodness, boy, you were so much anger. You were a storm. I couldn’t keep my head up long enough to take a breath. I was going to drown. I was using you as driftwood in a flood of your own making. Instead of tempering your gale, I was succumbing to it. Convinced you were all alone in the universe, you thought nothing of the worlds you flattened in your wake. You couldn’t hear me over your own pain.

I don’t think you wanted to hurt me, but you couldn’t stop it–and I couldn’t protect you from yourself anymore.

But I had to protect one of us. I had to protect someone from your storm. I read your texts, but then I blocked your number. Every way I knew of contacting you, I removed. It wasn’t about punishing you. I didn’t want to isolate you. But I don’t think I’d survive another of your storms. I can’t forgive you for turning our friends into your collateral damage. And I can’t give you the chance to convince me to let you back in.

I still can only think of you in metaphors. Anything more real hurts too much.

I don’t expect you to forgive me. I’m not sure I tried everything I could, but I know I gave everything I had. I want to thank you for making me feel seen, for making me feel safe, if only for a little while. Thank you for reminding me how to dream, how to want. I hope you’re still dreaming. I hope you’re remembering to live, too. I want you to live a long, loved life. I want you to enjoy your job, love your friends, come home to someone who always makes you feel wanted and appreciated and valued.

Keep living, firebreather.

Kristin

Advertisements

Author:

I want to help children find autonomy, teenagers find themselves, and adults find compassion through the written word. I hold a B.A. in Creative writing and a dream of seeing my name on a book cover one day.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s