Letter to - B.E.

I compose this letter so that I will bring this subject to rest. These are my final words, verbal or written, on our tragic story. I need to shut this door; a door that lets in a draft the insanity, attached to forgetting you; a door that is frequently opened by the gust of regret. For a while, we lived in an adoring daze; never coming down from foggy clouds, we lived isolated. We sat elevated above others, leaving their warnings faint and disregarded. Like all young love, everything appeared flawless and equipped to repel expiration. In public, we were seen inseparable and each moment out of sight, no breeze could be felt between us. Then, months passed and, foolishly, there I stayed, in the clouds, indulging on childish naivety, but, there you stood, grounded by their cautioning voices. The shared dream, we blindly felt our way through, had swiftly shifted to a deserted nightmare, in which I abruptly tumbled into.

I blamed you. For months I called you a monster; a vicious predator and a bestial fiend that fed on my will. Is that you? Now, I can see that the creature I despised was my mirrored image; a self-destructive monstrosity powered by affection, but never nourished; constantly ravenous for a loving gaze. I believed myself the victim, the lone traveler mauled by a foreign entity, but it was not you that wounded with your actions. It was my own teeth that drew blood. My words fed your resentment, which gave it the strength to tug you from my grasp.

 The words that once left my mouth with malicious intent now stain this page in solemn remorse. I write to apologize; no longer using my words to portray you as a dream killer, heartbreaker, or devilishly deceptive siren. The truth is that you are a liberated captive; free from the shackles of my insecurity. It is still a mystery, to me, why you did not flee sooner. Fear? Pity? Could you see past my anger and frustration? Could you see the confused child pleading for escape from his own mind; escape that I’m convinced, no person is powerful enough to provide? You should be showered in applause. A beast, no matter how gruesome, should never reach his deathbed without a single memory of once being stroked, like the more delicate creatures are. That brief memory is often the subject of my reminiscing. It serves as proof that there is hope for its reproduction. Foolish hope serves me better than wallowing in cynicism; cynicism that powered an obsession of dependency, which drove you and I apart.

I hope you accept these words, with no speculation, and realize my intentions are pure. My words are intended to be apologetic and gratification of a small segment of your life spent with me. I’m sure you’ve forgiven and long forgotten what transpired many years ago, but, it is only now that I have exonerated myself. Fear of repeating my bad habits left me quarantined from those who desire to see me live; to see me smile again. For these years, I’ve struggled to piece together any words without them resembling you. This letter is my deliverance. This letter is the unloading of shouldered weight. You are gone. We are finished. For my peace of mind, this letter, this gently closed door, needed to be. No longer will I draw upon memories of you for muse-like inspiration or speak of you with venomous intent. Thank you for everything, because our moments were necessary to elevate me to this moment of maturation.

B.E