Dear Blue, Yeah, you know who you are.

Dear ___________,
 
I have some things I need to say you. Some things I should have said to you years ago when you broke my heart for the first time. Back when you almost broke my nose on your trampoline. I should have said these things the multiple times that you have broken my heart since. 

I am a forever person.  Friendships, or relationships. I'm not in them for now. I'm not holding myself back. If I love you, I will love you forever. Even if that forever is shorter than I hoped, I will do anything in my power to fix what is broken. To mend bridges without burning them down. Keeping a relationship, any relationship requires work. It's harder work than getting together. Nothing we ever had was unfix-able. It just comes down to the fact that I wanted to work on it, and you didn't. You were the one who broke us. 

I am forever. I will fight for what I love. But the something I wanted to tell you, was that there comes a point in time where fighting for something becomes monotonous. Where it doesn't accomplish anything. Where all it does is serve to remind me that you didn't care enough. So then I automatically assume I could have done something more. Given more. Loved more. Sacrificed more. And that is not fair to me. 

Because I am a forever person. I will love you always. I will love you forever. But right now I need to put you in my back pocket and move on. Maybe one of these days there won't be an empty, gaping hole in my chest. Maybe one of these days it won't hurt to just think about you. Maybe one of these days I will be able to write you a letter, or talk about you without it bringing tears to my eyes, and the sore of repressed sobs to the back of my throat. Maybe one of these days my friend will come back to me, my rock, my safe place. 

Spread your wings and fly, little bird. I am setting you free.

Find the Spark Inside (Old Letters)

find the spark inside and let it burn

Dear __________,

I love you. I love you. I love you. And in those three times that I say that, it doesn’t mean nearly enough as it should. And you could be one person or many people, or everyone, and maybe you’re even me. I don’t even know anymore, but all I know is that a simple 'I love you' isn’t enough anymore, for me.

And I know I love you more than I really should, but I can’t help it. I can’t stop my feelings for you when you ask me to. I can’t stop the way you look at me, and the way I know that if I were to kiss you that you’d kiss me back, and I KNOW you would, but sometimes I’m too scared to ever try.

because 'I love you' just isn’t enough anymore.

And I’m so scared that I’m going to lose you somehow, because you are such a large part of my life and who I am, and I’m not going to say the things that make you perfect, because like I said earlier, you could be anyone.

I could have put a leaf-bag pumpkin on top of your car, or I could stay late with you when you’re crying, or I could lay awake on cold nights with you laughing about obscene noises, or I could share blue bottles and moments with you, or I could share a notebook and a past with you. Or maybe that’s all of you.

Or maybe like I said before, maybe it’s me.

And why can’t that all be enough for you. All of the little memories that you and I alone share? Why can’t it be enough that I can hold your hand when I’m crying, and not have to worry about being someone I’m not, because you are the person I am most myself with.

And dammit I love you but it’s not enough.

I want to spend the rest of my life with you, I want to fall asleep and wake up beside you for the rest of my life, and I want to be able to tell you that I still sleep with a teddy bear and you tell me that it’s adorable. I want to be able to argue with you like we’re married even though we’re not. I want to be able to tell you everything.

And i want 'i love you' to be enough and so much more.

But it’s not like that. We are not like that. You are not, and I am not, and that makes all of this that much harder, because I’m not sure where I begin when I am with you, and when I am without you, and when you hold my hand, I cry inside because maybe even that means more than me telling you that I love you, but maybe it doesn’t, and maybe nothing ever will, and maybe you’ll never believe me, but I always believe you.

God, it’s late and I’m talking to myself, or maybe it’s you, or them, or everyone, or no one. And maybe I’m just lonely because you’re not here, and I am, but maybe you are here and I am not and I just don’t know what to do with myself anymore without you.

Maybe you’re the asshole, or the bitch, or the blue, or the pain in my stomach when I’m trying to fall asleep on cold nights like this one, and even though I’m so fucking warm that I can’t fall asleep, I shiver because I miss you, and I need you, and I want you to be with me right then and right there, and I want to remember so many of those damn little memories that I think are important, and you never remember. And I love you.

But it’s not fucking enough.

I want to be with you forever. But like I said, maybe you don’t exist and maybe you’re everyone, or no one, or me. I don’t even know anymore and I’m just talking myself in circles because you do that to me. You make me want to be more. Not more than anyone else though. Not perfect. Not superman. You make me want to be more than me. And let me tell you, that burden, that little information stuck somewhere in the back of my head that refuses to come out, is a hard thing indeed. It’s hard to know that you’re not at your best. You’re not what you could be. And I’m not. I’m me, and I’m NOT superman or perfect or anything better than myself.

I am me. And you are you. (Which could be no one, or everyone, or even me.)

God, I love you.

I haven’t even figured out what it is I’m trying to type here. What metaphor or point I’m trying to get out this time, but I just figured that I’d talk or more or less type myself in circles and walk away feeling better about everything. About the fact that I love you and it’s never going to be enough. But I think I just managed to make myself feel bitter and horrible about not kissing you more, or holding you more, or being there for you more, and I hate myself for that. And you, at this point in the letter, don’t even know who you are. I’m not sure if I know who you are. I don’t think I’ll ever figure that out.

But know this. The one thing I wanted to accomplish with this one little, stupid letter. This one little stupid part of my past, and maybe even my present, and future, is that I love you.

And I will always love you. Always and forever, and even if you ever go away and leave me alone in this big huge world all by myself, I’ll still love you.

Even though it is not enough.

Letter to all (straight, looking for a relationship, single) men.

I wrote this a week or so ago.  Wasn't planing on posting it, but it still makes me giggle, so here you go.

----
Dear single (or as my luck would normally have it, not so single) men of the world (or more specifically south-central Nebraska),

No, I do not want you to send me a text message photo of your penis.

I am aware that there are some really good guys out there, but chances are, you are not one of them, no matter how many times you may claim to be.

There is nothing wrong with me. I don't need to be changed, or persuaded, or saved.  Even though I am extremely strong in my political beliefs, I also understand that other people have differing opinions than myself, let's have a conversation about it rather than an arguement.

No, I will not send you a text message photo of my breasts.

Chances are, no matter how cool you actually believe yourself to be, unless your name is Johnny Depp, you are NOT cool.  You are a loser.  You are single for a reason, or many reasons.  You are most likely not worthy of my time or attention, and the fact that I'm giving you this much is a miracle.  I am worth waiting around for if I tell you I'm not ready for a defined relationship.

I am strong and independent and able to support myself.  I can unclog a drain, fix a dryer belt, and unclog a garbage disposal.  I don't need you for any of those things.  I work hard, and I play hard, but I also really enjoy spending quiet nights at home on my couch with a book or a movie.

No, I do not want to feel your abs.

I have been hurt in the past, just like you, and I may hold some of the past pains up to the things you are offering me.  I will be upfront and honest about doing this, and I expect the same.  We can work it out, together.

I do not need to be told every other sentence how beautiful you think I am.  It's nice to hear it every once in a while, but if you say it too much, I start thinking that the only reason you want to spend time with me is because you think I'm so beautiful.  I am so much more than my appearance.

I can be a bitch.  A real, honest to God, raging bitch.  If I bite your head off, I promise I will eventually make up for it.  I have a good sense of humor, but I will not laugh at your pathetic attempts at humor.  I will not laugh at pathetically stupid movies.  I will laugh if you happen to drop food on your shirt, or spill your drink on your lap.

I will give you the world on a silver platter, but I expect nothing less in return.  I will be your rock.  I will be your shoulder to cry on, your arms to comfort, and the voice on the other end of the line when you need nothing more than a voice.

I am not asking you to give me the world.  I am perfectly capable of going out and seizing the world by the balls on my very own.  I just want you to give me all of you.  Every honest, raw, disgusting little bit.  You have to listen when I talk, not just pretend to.  You can't talk to me like I am either a child, or one of your employees, because I am neither.

Oh, and it'll probably help your case if you are good in bed.

All my (maybe) love,
Sadie