your
texts. Every single one. I read all of them one hundred times. I am so sorry I
didn’t answer, I was just trying to do the right thing. I did feel it though,
all of it. I missed you and all I wanted was to hear your voice too. Some
nights I drove by your house just to see your light on. I just wanted to be
close to you again, but I knew I couldn’t.
Mina, I love you. I love you
so much it fucking kills me to be without you, but it’s for the best. If we
stayed together, if we even gave it a try, I would let you down. I can’t be who
you need or deserve. I want you, but you need better.
I hope one day you’ll
understand and forgive me. I’ll love you always.
Drew
Your words made me feel sick. Seeing your writing, the letter
you had sat down to write to me to make me understand, suffocated me. You loved
me. All the hours I had spent wondering, agonising, trying to work out what I
did wrong or how I had upset you, and now it was all clear: You were a selfish
bastard.
I gave you my soul and you crushed it like a bug.
You coward.
We could have been amazing, but you were too scared to try.
Yes you loved me, it was the thing that I had wanted more
than anything else in the world, but it never mattered in the end because
reading your letter made me see what a waste of my time you were. I had given
you everything. I opened myself up to you and let you crawl inside, giving you
a permanent residence in my heart, and you took it, knowing you were going to
let me down all along. You intended to let me down the whole time, knowing our
relationship, or whatever it was, had an expiration date. You were fully aware
you were never going to try to be the person I wanted, that I deserved. You
knew you were just waiting for the moment when you had the balls to leave me
behind. You were practically waiting for it to go too far, then planned to back
out.
I burnt your letter you should know. I burned it because you
burnt me, scarring my heart, and I wanted to scorch you back.
I hope it melted some of the ice in your soul.
Splashes of Colour…
After I burned your letter, with my
mum holding my hand, over a specially built bonfire in the back garden, my
stomach stopped aching. Just like that. I didn’t notice at first. Instead I had
a niggling feeling that I was missing something. It took me two days to notice it
was gone. I no longer felt sick or wanted to curl up into a little ball.
I was still doodling; white ink on black paper. I still
wrote your words and created little scenes around them. I drew the stars and
the moon we had lain watching. I drew the lake we walked around. The giant
plate of spaghetti we shared. But then I drew a heart, a whole heart, not a
broken one. I drew music notes and thought about playing something upbeat. I
drew snow covered mountains and fairy lights, thinking about Christmas which
was just a month away. I doodled a Christmas tree and wondered what my friends
were doing. Whether they wanted to go out. I drew cake and coffee, thinking
they might like to catch up.
They did, and they had missed me.
I had missed me too.
Then I took my black paper and my white pen and drove back to
our park. I hated it at first. I didn’t want to get out of the car. It was cold
and raining, but I put my woolly hat on, grabbed my umbrella, took a breath and
forced myself out into the grey November day.
As I walked around the park, my eyes initially avoided the
places we had sat or kissed. Then I made them look. I made them stare. I made
my mind drink it all in, empty and alone. I won’t lie, it was hard. These were
the places I had avoided for two months, in my mind and in person. I stood
still and drank it in. All of it. Then I got my white pen and I drew it. All of
it. The rain smudged the ink and the wind blew the paper, I had to battle to
finish, but I battled and I fought.
And I won.
I burnt those drawings too, just so you know.
When I got home I put my black pad and white pen away.
I
texts. Every single one. I read all of them one hundred times. I am so sorry I
didn’t answer, I was just trying to do the right thing. I did feel it though,
all of it. I missed you and all I wanted was to hear your voice too. Some
nights I drove by your house just to see your light on. I just wanted to be
close to you again, but I knew I couldn’t.
Mina, I love you. I love you
so much it fucking kills me to be without you, but it’s for the best. If we
stayed together, if we even gave it a try, I would let you down. I can’t be who
you need or deserve. I want you, but you need better.
I hope one day you’ll
understand and forgive me. I’ll love you always.
Drew
Your words made me feel sick. Seeing your writing, the letter
you had sat down to write to me to make me understand, suffocated me. You loved
me. All the hours I had spent wondering, agonising, trying to work out what I
did wrong or how I had upset you, and now it was all clear: You were a selfish
bastard.
I gave you my soul and you crushed it like a bug.
You coward.
We could have been amazing, but you were too scared to try.
Yes you loved me, it was the thing that I had wanted more
than anything else in the world, but it never mattered in the end because
reading your letter made me see what a waste of my time you were. I had given
you everything. I opened myself up to you and let you crawl inside, giving you
a permanent residence in my heart, and you took it, knowing you were going to
let me down all along. You intended to let me down the whole time, knowing our
relationship, or whatever it was, had an expiration date. You were fully aware
you were never going to try to be the person I wanted, that I deserved. You
knew you were just waiting for the moment when you had the balls to leave me
behind. You were practically waiting for it to go too far, then planned to back
out.
I burnt your letter you should know. I burned it because you
burnt me, scarring my heart, and I wanted to scorch you back.
I hope it melted some of the ice in your soul.
Splashes of Colour…
After I burned your letter, with my
mum holding my hand, over a specially built bonfire in the back garden, my
stomach stopped aching. Just like that. I didn’t notice at first. Instead I had
a niggling feeling that I was missing something. It took me two days to notice it
was gone. I no longer felt sick or wanted to curl up into a little ball.
I was still doodling; white ink on black paper. I still
wrote your words and created little scenes around them. I drew the stars and
the moon we had lain watching. I drew the lake we walked around. The giant
plate of spaghetti we shared. But then I drew a heart, a whole heart, not a
broken one. I drew music notes and thought about playing something upbeat. I
drew snow covered mountains and fairy lights, thinking about Christmas which
was just a month away. I doodled a Christmas tree and wondered what my friends
were doing. Whether they wanted to go out. I drew cake and coffee, thinking
they might like to catch up.
They did, and they had missed me.
I had missed me too.
Then I took my black paper and my white pen and drove back to
our park. I hated it at first. I didn’t want to get out of the car. It was cold
and raining, but I put my woolly hat on, grabbed my umbrella, took a breath and
forced myself out into the grey November day.
As I walked around the park, my eyes initially avoided the
places we had sat or kissed. Then I made them look. I made them stare. I made
my mind drink it all in, empty and alone. I won’t lie, it was hard. These were
the places I had avoided for two months, in my mind and in person. I stood
still and drank it in. All of it. Then I got my white pen and I drew it. All of
it. The rain smudged the ink and the wind blew the paper, I had to battle to
finish, but I battled and I fought.
And I won.
I burnt those drawings too, just so you know.
When I got home I put my black pad and white pen away.
I
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