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

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Dear You,

I know it is frowned upon to talk of the dead. Still, I find it only fitting that I write this...well, not to you exactly. You've been gone for a while. Mourning you was complicated. We had good memories. I almost wish I could neatly fit you into good or evil. Kind or cruel. Yet I smile fondly, thinking about the terms of endearment only to be pained by the reality that if you'd lived longer then you'd hate me.

It's rather twisted, isn't it? That I'll never know if you could've grown to love me, all of me, or if you'd remain stubborn until the end. Still. It does me no good to linger on such a thought. The worry seems almost selfish. Especially considering the nature of your death. I think that you were...a good man. A good man who was unfortunately a product of his time and raised in an almost cult-like fashion, one you never fully escaped.

That's the reality of it all. I've come to accept the messy nature of my emotions towards the memory of you.

From,

Me.

Dear You






From Me

Dear You,

Words fail me.

Dear you,

I am not 19 anymore, but I will probably always love you. Your positive qualities are abundant and obvious, and often close to superlative.

I might feel more strongly about other people, who might be better romantic fits for me, but fundamentally you're always going to be somewhere in my heart.

Dear President Biden:

Please designate the Houston Police Department as a terrorist organization.

Sincerely,

Tim

Dear you

I wish I could say I'm sorry but if I did I don't know who I would be sorry for. I'm not sorry for myself because I wouldn't have done it if I was gonna feel sorry for myself about it. And I'm not sorry to you because you would just say that it was my choice but I know that you're trying to keep me out of trouble and I'm still on that knifes edge and it's difficult to stay on the straight and narrow.

I don't even feel guilty about what I've done. I don't do guilt and I'm not sure I know what it means to feel guilty.

Should I feel shame? Not sure about that either. I'm not sure I'm that in touch with my emotions that I understand that what I have done is meant to be shameful.

I mean I suppose that for an instant I did see what I was doing from a third person perspective and realised that what I was doing wasn't in my best interests so at least that's something.

I'll just call it a blip and try my best to not let it happen again. It's been a hell of a week.

From me

a**hole,

You said: "You think you're better than them. You're not better than them."

Let me tell you again in case you've forgotten: "Yes. Yes, I am!"

From,
Me

Dear Intrusive Thoughts

You had me there for a second, nice try but no cigar.

From Me

Dear whoever saw my rants,

They were real rants.
I held back on them for years to make sure no one felt badly except me.

Fat load of good that did me. No more silent sally here.

Dear you,

Hey. I want to thank you for being there for me. Even when, frankly, I didn't deserve it. Sometimes even when I know you're being constructive, there's a part of me that sees it as an insult and wants to fight back.

Consider it immaturity. It's painful to admit but I am a bit jealous. You seem so put together. Whereas, well, I'm a mess. Still, I know that's just my perception with rose-tinted glasses. I see the highlights of your life, never the lows.

How do you do it? The spontaneity I mean. How can you pack up your life and start new, just like that? I feel so tied down. You asked me if I'm happy. I - no. I don't think I am.

Why is it so oddly freeing to admit that? It feels contradictory. Maybe it's because, putting into words like this, I realise that this isn't just a distant hypothetical or something to procrastinate. It's the next step in my life. I kept telling myself that I wasn't ready, but I am. The thought of change is scary but the idea that it never changes is even scarier.

From,

Me.

For You and You and You

https://youtu.be/F13JNjpNW6c



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https://youtu.be/UofYl3dataU



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Dear you,

Your breath smells so bad I feel like I need a breath mint after talking to you.

From me.