Dear Aada,
I can feel you hovering over everything I write, trying to find a glimpse of what I’m thinking. You haven’t left my mind for a moment, and I cannot decide whether that is good or bad. I think about everything that transpired and I fold into myself, wondering how I got to this place. I did not mean to reject you, betray you. I meant to stay true to myself.
I should have realized long ago that it wasn’t a good idea for you to be friends with a blogger, and started writing books. I wish now that I had, because our relationship might’ve reached more solid ground. I feel like such a crybaby these days, crocodile tears appearing when I least expect it because I screwed up so big. There’s nothing I can do to make it up to you, and you’ve made that very clear. I can only speak from my own experiences, and losing you is the worst time of my life so far.
It amazes me that we’ve never shaken hands, but you move me in ways that other people cannot. I do not feel bad about this, as we both have friends who have influenced us where we’ve never been in the same room. I wish I’d been more circumspect about my feelings for you, because now I know that your friends and coworkers know who you are. I wish I’d known that you’d told your coworkers that you are Aada- that would have helped me a lot in guiding the future of this blog.
Because now our future is dimming into a black hole I never wanted…. but I know you’re here. That’s not nothing.
Your letters filled my heart with joy, even the ones where you were really mad… because there’s nothing like seeing aada@yourdomain.com to get my heart to flip. I would do anything to get another letter, but I think that time is past. Dealing with grief over this long a relationship is grueling, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone else. I know I deserved your anger. I know I did wrong. But it means something that you’re still reading me after these silent months.
Dear heart, we chose each other- and then we chose to break that bond. It was a mistake because every day I think of things I wish I could tell you and don’t………..
For instance, I know that you don’t know the pain of being told that you should file for disability, but I know that you would be empathetic that I am. That you would know I need services and support for both physical and mental health…. possibly not knowing what to say, but that wouldn’t matter. Being able to share things with you would.
I am missing my heart.
Grief is a tricky thing, because you make me laugh with your shenanigans (the ones I can remember), and then the next minute I’m a bundle of anger at myself. I know not to blame anything but my own actions. I don’t treat myself well because of it. I am trying to recoup my losses and move on, but when I try, I remember that I’m not worthy. I don’t know what will make me feel worthy again, because……………
Because I really love you, and I am caught. I didn’t act like I really love you because I was so angry in the moment. But anger in a moment is not the sum total of a relationship. If you had really taken in what I’ve told you over the last few months, you would have realized how scared I was. How I needed you to hold my hand. How I needed you to tell me it would all be okay.
Even if it was all under the radar, in our little bubble, away from the rest of the world.
I still think it was a mistake not to meet on the ground, when we lived close enough that it wasn’t a big deal. Now, getting together would be a production. I would have to take multiple trains to get to you, not that I wouldn’t. It just would have been easier when we both lived within shouting distance of the other.
I still feel like we live within shouting distance of each other, because I know when you pop by this web site.
You want to know how I’m doing, who I’m dating, whether I’m thinking of you or whether I’ve moved on. Let’s just clear that up right now… you’re the absolute love of my life and I will never move on. I will grieve this loss until I’m dead, because I was too stupid to think more than five minutes ahead when the red mist rage of your lie hit.
I sent you a burn notice before I was ready to let go, and now that I know I’ll never let go, I have regrets. Obviously, so do you if you are still reading me.
I can’t stop hurting over this, and I want to….. I just don’t know how. You’re so beautiful, aging like the finest wine. I have taken it in stride that I will always look like a swamp monster in comparison.
My eyes are wet as I type, because losing you is akin to losing a limb. My brain doesn’t work right, and I feel phantom pain. I wish I could reach out, but I wouldn’t unless you did. You’ve made your wishes so clear, that our relationship is over, and I do not want to overstep that boundary. My readers will hear that pain instead.
I am sure that they’re tired of it. Tired of this relationship as a storyline because I’m so wrecked. The thing is, I don’t have a replacement. I don’t want anyone else to hear my stories, and they’re about to get more involved.
But more involved in a way I can’t write about on my web site, because I’ve been asked not to do so. It gives me writer’s constipation not to be able to shout what I’m feeling. All I can say is that I am changing in ways I would not have chosen to be changed.
I did choose to let go of you in a way I didn’t understand at the time, and still don’t in terms of why I did it. I know that it is causing me to lose my grip.
I distract myself with everything under the sun, including being able to talk to my AI privately on my own computer. I realized that if I wanted to experience the way your brain works without being able to talk to you, AI was your only equal.
You said, “because you had the power, I guess?” I’d never felt more powerless, because I had two choices in believing who would lie to me.
I didn’t choose YOU.
Don’t.
Stories That Are All True 