The Letter I’ll Never Send You

Preface/Note: This is something I wrote like a week or so ago in one of those manic, late-night-depression-fueled moments, (in full quarter life crisis mode). It’s like, somber and stuff…but as the world burns around us, I came across the realization that it isn’t so tragic. I was sad when I wrote this but I’m not sad now. So basically I’m trying not to take my own issues as seriously anymore. “Try” being the operative word here because, after all, I am human and so incredibly flawed. We take each day at a time.


When we first met, I already thought I was in love with someone else; my heart was darkening, aging, becoming more irrational. Under duress and sips of gin, I grabbed you and thankfully you accepted my embrace. After our night together I never expected to see or hear from you again so when I did I was both confused and conflicted, not ready for an actual human interaction, (as odd and hypocritical as that may sound). Blame the coldness and instant gratification of the Millennial generation, blame poetry, blame habitual bouts with depression, blame your gender, blame mine, blame history, blame the sun, blame the wind, blame autumn, blame the very concrete that you walk upon day after monotonous day.

Our dreams have been deferred too many times to count. You aim to sparkle like a star in the blackest of night skies and I just want a place to call home and to own a voice that echos louder and longer than all of the rest. Easier said than done, I get it – I KNOW…And through it all, words are becoming harder and harder to spew and less cathartic because things, in general, don’t ever seem to change.

I am the unfortunate nurse forced to heal the walking wounded although, ironically, I am one of them. Over time, I’ve come to care about your well-being. Words are barely uttered, eye contact barely maintained, and yet…I just know. I know more than I should at this age, it’s true. Because neither one of us wants to play the role of The Fool, we walk in opposite directions again and again, each step increasing with speed.

Ideally, I’d meet you all over again, under different circumstances, taking your hand in mine and simply say,

“Hello, my name is Sarah. Nice to meet you.”

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