A letter that will probably never be sent:
Dear Ben,
I don’t think you’ve thought about me as much as I’ve thought about you over the years. Before, I always wondered. I never knew if you thought about me that much. I didn’t think so, but now I know so.
I don’t know if I was really your first real heart break. I like to think I was. Then it would all make sense.
Calvin was my first real heart break. I have only felt more pain on a couple other occasions. It destroyed me for a time. Of course, I’m able to move on and pick up the pieces, but it wasn’t easy. It still isn’t.
I’m not one of those people who can act all buddy-buddy with someone I have conflicting feelings with. I usually move on quickly from anger, but hurt and betrayal are much deeper emotions. I don’t understand how our relationship all those years ago impacted you or if you really even take it seriously now. It’s hard to believe that we started dating almost 9 years ago. We’re still so young now, doesn’t it seem almost silly to be that young and in love? I know I was though and I’ll always remember you as my first love.
It hardly seems fair sometimes. I can say with certainty that I was not fair to you. We were young and irrational and inexperienced and immature. But not a day goes by that I wish I had treated you better. I can say that I feel I became a better person because of our relationship. I’m better able to control my anger and like to think myself as a more rational person. I can still be petty, but I try to keep it in good taste. If in good taste is even a thing. Probably not.
I want to say I’m sorry. I wanted to say that when we went out for breakfast about a month ago, but I didn’t. I was so nervous. I was so incredibly nervous. I took 3mg of Ativan and I was still shaking from anxiety. At least I felt like I was. I was a coward. I wasn’t thinking.
I want to say I’m sorry for how I treated you. I want you to know that I still hope for you and want the best for you. If you’d have me, I would like to be a part of your life again. This seems so incredibly formal and impersonal. But if you’d have me, I’d like to maybe be your friend. I know that can be a big step. Or maybe it’s not a big deal. I don’t know the protocol on this. Can we be friends again? Is that too weird to ask?
I’ve known you for most of my life yet I have no idea who you are anymore. We’ve always seemed to get along so well. I felt that after the first jitters were really gone we were able to have a decent conversation. I’d like to get to know you again. It doesn’t have to be right away and we don’t have to become best friends, but it would be nice.
Who knows? Maybe it’ll be beyond awkward and it won’t work. Maybe that’s how you felt about our last get together. God, I hope not because I didn’t think so and that would be pretty humiliating. Judging from your current responses and such, I think that’s the direction you’re currently leading towards. Is that something I deserve? Possibly. You certainly don’t owe me anything.
I’ve been thinking about it a lot recently. My life took a complete turn around in the span of 3 months. This opportunity I’ve been given in California was beyond a surprise. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect. It was short enough after my break-up with long-term ex-boyfriend that I hadn’t had time to set down any deeper roots and long enough that the shock factor had passed. Everything sort of fell into place. My plane tickets were well within my budget, the facility is lovely, I was the first music therapy intern to receive housing from the facility in many years, and it’s a lovely area for a new start. I’ve never done something like this before. Well, that’s not entirely true. But I’ve never thrown myself so completely into something all by myself. I’ve never been this alone. It almost feels empowering. Or maybe that’s fear.
I have only felt the entire universe telling me to go out to California these last few weeks. It’s been an amazing whirlwind. Stressful and amazing.
It would be nice to know you again. I can understand if you’d rather keep that door shut, though. I just feel an invitation is more appropriate.
This is a letter you’ll never read. Many people have told me how I should approach this situation. It just seems too impersonal, though. But it’s more adult-like. It’s more mature. It doesn’t ensure that I can say everything I feel I need to say to you. All the unspoken apologies. It’s not that I don’t want to live with this guilt. I will take that guilt with me to the grave until forgiven. I can understand if you don’t want to forgive me.
It would be nice to know you again. This is a letter you’ll never read.
Love,
Tori
This Strange Place 