here is my email which i will never send
I have made the mistake of overstaying my welcome many times, and did it again more recently. In realizing that, I have decided that my email will remain nameless in recipient, but targeted in meaning. For a week I have walked up three flights of stairs with a pit in my stomach but secretly hoping there would be a letter waiting for me, shoved in between the crack in my door. The big goodbye I was promised. But I suppose in this life silent cowardace is the ultimate evil and my tears do not matter much in the grand scheme of living, so a promised goodbye is more of a hollow thing to dangle in front of me. Maybe it was all an attempt to restore the balance of power I shifted ten days ago.
Although I do not receive everything I put out, I know that the injustice will be balanced someday. I say this with confidence. I have known what it is like to be seen (albeit for short periods of time when it was convenient) and I know that when I am sad again tonight I can remember the warmth it gave me. I should not open boxes that contain mementos tarnished by more hollowed out promises, otherwise known as lies, and I know that I did the right thing in burning my sheets last night so certain smells stopped following me. I know that I cannot drive by the houses of all the people that I miss every day and have to limit myself to maybe once a month, when gas money permits. I would need to drive to many states and also to a house that’s only twenty minutes away and who knows how much time that would take. I know that people have always come back in one way or another and always when I least expect it, but I know I cannot expect that to keep happening. I know that my goodbyes are permanent when they are said, and I know that I do not ever get the answers to questions I want answered so desperately. I know there are a handful of people who probably feel this way about me. I could name them if you wanted me to.
I know that one day there will be someone who knocks at my door and fights for me again and again, who takes advantage* of my tendency to forgive but not forget. I think it is silly because when I am asked if the great love of my life ever considered fighting for me, I have to sort of shrug and say, No, it wasn’t as serious as I thought it was I suppose, he did it for someone else I think, but it’s okay. The great goodbye should not be coveted by the goodbyer, they do not need it badly unless it is to reconcile with guilt in which case I hope the guilt doesn’t go away. Because when someone is able to imagine a future that does not have me in it, I should not want to overstay anymore, I should not want to prove my worth until it is hammered into thick skulls, I should not have to scream or cry or beg to be wanted. That is all a great goodbye would do for me, I’d be the only one feeling guilty for my anger when I was finally left alone.
Sometimes I like to commit myself to exposure therapy under the guidance of just myself. I look at old pictures and read letters packed away in overstuffed boxes that had truth to them at one point or another and suddenly realize that all the cards I ever was given by a particular old friend or family member were yellow or purple or glittery because it was a color that made me happy. I think I will start saying that my ex died rather than left me twice because at least I won’t have the urge to drop call so I can hear his voice. I do not have messages left after I didn’t pick up calls to replay in the case of anyone’s death, unless it’s the woman from Anytime Fitness who calls once a week. I like to make sure everyone I have ever cared about (even my mother) has my voice in a message to replay whenever they get sad. It is good to leave people with the things you wish you were left with too.
Someday I will be sad still but will at least have my appetite back. I am very angry and if given the chance I would rip out hair and punch you until you were on the floor bleeding, but last night when I turned around and saw you crossing the street, I wanted to run back and be pressed to you one more time (again and again and again, repeat).
*maybe not the best choice of words
