Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Well, a hate letter really.


Are rather like peanut butter

Slapped between two pieces of bread.
Dear Other girl,

I would just like to take this liberating opportunity to file my formal complaint.
Once I finish this letter, its done. My feelings are out, you will live your life,
and i, will most certainly live mine.
Thank you, so much,
for stomachaches, headaches, and many unnecessary tears.

I wish you could only know, how much you have truly done for me.
I hope in your journey of independence,
and to be "different." You realize, that you are affecting more than just yourself.
Seriously, you are cool.
 After three years, you have finally made it to the top.
You are DIFFERENT. you are unique. you stand out... and you did it! He noticed you!
 oh trust me, he did.
And everybody knows it. You made sure of that.
 After all of those attempts, you finally got through to him.
Its funny how he has that effect on you, isn't it?
All of a sudden, the most important thing in the world is becoming the center of his. His world that is. I, know.
You probably think that nobody understands how you feel. But...
I do.
I did.
I will.
For the one and probably only fault of this incredible young man,
is that all he ever wants,
is what he can't have.
And right now, you are what he can't have.
You are probably waiting for that day. Waiting for that day, that moment, where he realizes it is you. Where he realizes it is you he wants to hold, you he chooses, you he gives that smile of his to. You are probably thinking, it will be mine. It will be "ours." I will hold it in my hands, taste it, feel it, breathe it, love it.  
Now here is where your thinking might need to be rethunk, for it is slightly amiss.
He can't be held.
He can't be owned.
He can't be caged, or caught, or fully kept.
It is not in his nature.
And he will love you...
until you start assuming that you are his.
I was the other girl.
Then she was the other girl.
Then her,
and now it is you
Good luck, Other Girl,
Good luck. 
Dear Reader.
This letter is not in any way shape or form to you. Or you. Or even you.
It was a letter never sent,  to somebody, a significant amount of time ago. I found it in my journal while searching through some old things today.
It made me laugh. It could be highly relatable.
So please, don't assume this letter is to you: it's not.
I don't hate the world.
In fact, I have never felt more connected to the world, and connected to myself as I have of late. 
Hope you are having a wonderful Wednesday.  
Write a Venting Letter.
Don't send it.

-Rachael Cherish.

1 comment:

  1. it's so nice to know that you are indeed human. you sweet little thang you