(1) Dear Love,

“Love”…  It’s what we always called each other.  A promise to each other that we would always be each other’s true love.

I’ve been thinking about writing to you, in a way that you will not hear me, not see me, but I could see and hear you.  I could imagine how you’d react– the way you would have reacted– without having to bear the thought of you pushing me away.  Everytime I try to speak to you it gets worse.  Everytime I try to see your face, I tear up.

Since I was twelve or thirteen years old, I knew I had some sort of problem.  I did not want to live.  I saw no purpose to me.  Life itself had purpose, just not mine.  So I dreamt.  I daydreamed constantly, escaping who I was, pretending to be whatever I fancied.  And sometimes I dreamt of just… leaving it all.  There were times in the car, sitting in the passenger seat, where I would wish a bus to hit my side of the vehicle.  There were times when I imagined a better place waiting on the other side.

A few years later, I was diagnosed with a severe depression that had only gotten worse.  I was paired up with a therapist, and then a psychologist; Now I take three different pills a day, and visit each at least once a month.  In the beginning, the visits were weekly, but I have gotten “better.”  I stayed at a mental hospital for awhile.  I threw myself at others, trying to find some sort of love.  Instead, I got abuse and hate.

But you know all of this.  I told you everything, I gave you the deepest part of myself.  And you took it, and cherished it.

Why through it back in my face now?

My love… I don’t see any other way to deal with this.  We spend one week apart, and then you come and tell me you no longer love me.  We spent a year and a half constantly in each other’s arms, constantly talking, constantly (and blatantly) showing our love.  I don’t know how to cut this off so suddenly.  I know college is on the horizon, and I was fully prepared to begin a long distance relationship; short visits, long periods of waiting, rejection to others.

Everyone tells me that there will be others in college.  Everyone says that I deserved better anyway, and that time will heal.  Over and over and over again.

Don’t they see I just want you?

I will continue to write to you, as long as my heart hurts.  Even though I am ignored in life, I will reach you on pages.  Maybe one day I’ll send you a link.  Maybe I won’t.  Time will tell.  For now, I will not give up.

For now, you will be my love.

With all my heart,

Quiver