Love letter # 97

Sometimes I feel like blaming you. Sometimes I wish I felt nothing. That would be a whole lot easier.

None of this is what I think – it’s how I feel. In my polite, well ordered mind this is all perfectly ordinary break up stuff. You started off liking me and then something changed and you didn’t. I tried to get you back but I failed. Nothing new, nothing original about any that. Ho-hum really.

Yet in my blood coloured heart it ain’t anything like that. It’s still raw, a wound still bleeding; with all the irrational, hyper-emotional drama that goes with it. I’m almost ashamed to admit it.

Partly, I want to hurt you back – anything to draw a response. Even though I know this is utterly ridiculous, I still find myself wanting it. It’s an incredibly humbling experience. I feel thoroughly undermined. The reasonable and relatively well balanced person I once prided myself on being has left the building. He dissolved in your embrace … Or maybe he was an illusion waiting to be shattered.

But y’know what? … So what.

None of that matters. More stupid theories that change nothing. The only way this is going to change is if I stop. So that’s what I’m proposing. An end. A full stop.

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