Dear "You"...From "Me"-Letters Unsent

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Dear You,

Thank you for being you.

From,
Me

Dear you,

My love is not measured by the brief time you were here. My heart is crushed by the gravity of everything you'll never have and what I couldn't give you. My arms will always ache for a weight they never held. My soul will always long for you.

Dear mum,

You don't know the reason I go to bed at 11PM and you never will, because I'm never going to tell you.

Me

PS. You've forfeited your right to know in 2016 when you were being abusive towards be just for being the way that I really am.

Dear You,

Thank you.

From,
Me

Dear You,

I appreciate how much work and effort you have put in to get to where you are.

However, I wish that you would recognise that you and I are living different lives. I wish that you would acknowledge that there was also a degree of luck and timing involved in your situation.

I also wish that you would tell me that you are proud. I wish that you would hug me and tell me that you recognise that I am trying.

I wish for too much. Ultimately I disagree with your assessment. I'm not lazy. I'm scared. Of course I am. The fear ties my stomach in knots. It exhausts me.

You see excuses. You don't understand. Can't fathom my tiredness. You dismiss it. That's why I know that I will never find comfort in your presence. Even though I wish it so.

I will have to find comfort elsewhere. Sometimes I just want to yell at you and ring these thoughts into your head. Even then you would never listen. I know you don't understand where I'm coming from. Why it's been difficult. I just need to know that it's my decision. I hear so many remembered voices springing around in my head that I no longer know my own. Please. Just. Be quiet. Let me think. I don't expect you to listen, but I need to hear myself for once.

From,

Me.

Heya, mister.

I meant it. I hope you know it. Not just that I mean it, but that it's the truth.

Now if only we could make people see themselves the way that we see them, huh? Stupid reality.

Me

Dear You,

Can you hear it? The sounds droning into a blurred hum like a beating drum. It's a pleasant sensation, reminds me of a familiar radio station.

I've heard silence be described as peaceful. I disagree. My world is never silent. There is always a rustle in the trees, a screech or a hoot of an owl, scurrying squirrels way up high or pigeons cooing up in the sky.

The world ever so full of life. Silence is scary. It is fear. Likely a predator drawing near.

Life stalls. It starts. There is a comfort and yet a horror in knowing that I am just another part of the symphony. I continue on because my chorus is not yet done. The notes I sing may be wonky but they contribute to the song all the same.

From,

Me.

Dear f****d up autistic brain

Thanks for nothing.