Guest Post Intimacy Loneliness Miscellaneous Random Ponderings Stories

Dear Friend, Volume 1

I still love you passionately. Why don't we leave for a trip to Paris tomorrow and not just Paris, but everywhere.



The other day I rediscovered the old shoebox in my childhood bedroom crammed full of ancient letters. These letters range from professions of love to friendly notes passed in the hallway. I spent hours upon hours reading through all of them and gathering the best passages from them because they were far too good to keep to myself. They are in no order and from dozens of different people from the past decade. There is no real purpose to these blog posts, save their aesthetic and poetic value, so without further ado, enjoy! (read Volume 2 here.)

Every night when I close my eyes it is your face I see and every morning when I wake up, before I open my eyes, I see your face. (Was that a run-on? I don’t care. I like you too much.) My arms ache to be wrapped up around you and my hands are lonely. My eyes long to see you and my mouth greatly desires to speak with you. My ears are going deaf because they only want to hear your voice.

I became as offensive as all the things that broke my heart or confused me. My only coping mechanism was vulgarity, and I don’t mean dropping frequent F-bombs, I mean my worldview, my laughter, and my crass personality became vulgar. If you are bad, the bad things don’t hurt.
Does that make sense?
I’ve had a bit of wine.

I still love you passionately. Why don’t we leave for a trip to Paris tomorrow and not just Paris, but everywhere.

But wherever you go there you are, and I met a man who’s broken like me and fun like me and my appetite for tragedy got the better of me again.

I like all the little names you call me, like this morning you called me Peachums. You always use them at the perfect times too. Today I was upset about something and you said something in response, but you threw Darling in there and I could feel my entire body relax.

I’m doing pretty good, it’s not as bad I thought a rehab would be. Most of the people are in here for heroin, meth, benzos, and pain pills. I kinda feel like I’m in here for nothing, but I know that’s not true.

You said in your letter that we’ve gotten to know each other and then grown together. It’s like if you plant trees near each other, their roots grow together and sometimes the trunks become one and it is like one tree instead of two.

Today’s the kind of day where I wish you could come pick me up and we could listen to sad music and you could laugh at me cry my heart out. This life sure is giving me a run for my money. Luckily, we serve a big God.

It’s 2:19am EST. I’m beat. Thank you for helping me unwind. Even though you won’t get this for days. Thank you for being there. I wish you were here so that I would have somebody to just BE with. Somebody to listen to the sounds of the earth with and to watch the beauty of each other and all that is around us. That not to say that I’m beautiful, but that I find our friendship beautiful.

We are already making it where others have failed. We have bashed the wall of outside beauty. We have stripped each other to nothing and have found that it is better than anything else.

The best thing about writing to you is that all you can see are my words. There’s a quaint comfort in the anonymity of it all. All you can see are my thoughts, my emotions. I think I always say more than I should when I write, but it’s how I truly feel I suppose.

I love you too much for this to end.

Man, I would be really bad at writing a true love letter. I wouldn’t know what to say. “Um. I think you have a nice smile and you make me laugh so my heart is ever indebted to you.” LAME.

I read this book over the summer and the main character was a girl and her older brother went away to school. She wrote him a letter and all that was on it was ‘I love you and I miss you.’ Sometimes that’s all I want to write to you. I love you. I miss you. I love you. I miss you……

I feel like I can’t win. My life is a vicious cycle of letdowns and failures and pain. I’m in the midst of the wilderness in its truest form and I’m so tired.

This is a dangerous cliff we are standing on and we are young and if we take a wrong step it could come crashing down and we will tumble into the darkness. Right now I don’t care. I don’t see the black abyss below us and I don’t really care about the danger.

I could go on for hours about how wonderful of a person you are and how thankful I am to have you in my life, but I really have to poop.



2 comments on “Dear Friend, Volume 1

  1. Tony Rizzi

    U so sweet. Fun to read. Love the last one the most

  2. Pingback: Dear Friend, Volume 2 | ethan renoe

Leave a Reply