Untitled Letter

Your approval is so hard to earn and so easy to lose that when I’m afraid I’ve disappointed you, death looks more welcome than conversation with you. I so desperately want you to love me but I can never truly have faith in your love, faith that it will stay even when I’m imperfect,  as I always am.

I try not to speak to you when I have needs, because my needs hurt you like arrows.  People tell me I should call on you, rely on you. But you and I know better. It’s taken me far longer than it should have to recognize this wound in me and its cause. And the knowledge has brought me only despair. 

Every song that has ever reminded me of you was a breakup song, a song about love rescinded.  Because if you can’t take it back, you’re unwilling to love at all, but taking it back is what kills me.

Maybe the secret is to stop trying,  stop turning to you for unrequited love you can’t give. Maybe I have to learn to love myself the way you never could. Maybe love, true love, isn’t in the cards for me. I don’t know.  I know that your mercurial love leaves me aching for death and I can’t live like this. 

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