#8 – never a mistake

January 14, 2010 · Filed under Uncategorized

dear you,

you are the last person i would ever write to. but being that you will never read this letter, i will rest assure that releasing these words to the ether will be just as healthy as i releasing you from my heart.

i barely think of you. i’ve been over you  for years. the mention of your name do not flood me with memories any more. i can barely remember tracing a finger along your face let alone anything else.

maybe if i try, i could. and maybe if i do now, i will smile. i will give the honor of “us” and push all the ugly, sloppy things towards the end of the relationship to the side. i used to hold on to that pain as a reminder of what never to feel with another man ever again.

and i have succeeded.

i have never felt the betrayal, the heartache, the anger as i have with you. and dare i say i have never felt the carefree, whimsical love that i have felt with you either. i’ve loved hard, but it feels different as if it was blanketed with wisdom and peace.

they say that people return in a form of resolution. that when two people meet again, they either connect with a stronger bond, or realize why they didn’t work out, in which pages of lessons are laid out to you, in which you take to the rest of your journey.

i knew it was the latter when you called months after i caught you with her.

you said you missed me and you loved me. i responded in my head to yours, “i don’t know what that means.”

but know this. because i didn’t know what “love” was, i searched for it. i searched for myself. to find me, and redefine me.

it was the pain that shook me out of my complacency and into the world that i am in. the world that i am SUPPOSED to be in. and though you didn’t inspire me to write beautiful love poems or paintings depicting people who are smitten,  your exit is what forced me to make sense of the mess inside of me, to sort it out, and to spoon feed it to people who were willing to listen.

without you, i wouldn’t have known me. and who would have thought that knowing me was directly connected to hating you.

the hate is no longer there. in fact, in ways, i miss you and wish you well. i am sure you have found the love that the younger versions of ourselves couldn’t provided for each other.

but if i can say this, thank you. thank you for being the spark to the cannon that propelled me to my life despite of its ugly form. it’s because of my discovery that i am artist who can live off her expression allows me to say that deep within me, in its purest form, untouched and not judged by any body including myself, is a part that has love for you.

take care of yourself. no need for light-footed cameos any more.

love,

alfie