I know you will not want to hear about my day (not like you ever did…) I know you will not want to take your time looking at and poking my face. You won’t scratch my head, you won’t tickle my side.. you won’t touch my cheeks and my nose. But I kept it all for you. All you want to know is do you still fit inside. And you do. But where do I fit, in your dreams or in your arms? Is it neither anymore.
is that really gonna be where we leave things off? I’m sorry you hate me, and I’m sorry I always apologize when I shouldn’t. I just shouldn’t. I want to be important to you. I was there for you on the worse day of your life. The worse night until 6am. I was there for you on your best. The day that you haven’t even named yet. It makes my stomach turn and it makes my eyes wet. I’m sorry you hate me. I’m sorry you hate me. I feel so stupid, I want to punch myself a million times. I don’t want to leave with those being our last words…your last words to me. I look desperate, because I am. I don’t want to ever not be a part of your life. Don’t you get it?
the thing is, when I started writing these letters, I promised myself that I would never scratch them out, rip them up, throw them away after I finished them. I promised myself that if what I was feeling in that moment was real enough for me to write it down then it was real enough to stay. But hours after folding up this third addition to the pack I realized I came on too strong and you never liked that. I felt like that small version of myself I was that day when you said what you said and I burst out into loud tears because I was home alone and I texted you back paragraphs of why you should stop. I felt like a beggar, like I was pleading with you though pen and paper. I don’t want to ever again feel like I am convincing you. If it was real enough for me then it was real enough to stay.
I want to rip your skin apart, I want to peel it back to reveal your fruit. It might hurt a little and there will be blood but all the better to see you my dear. I want the real map of your body not that false image your skin and flesh presents. Of all this time I showed you my insides first and my outsides later. When we strip our clothes it’s like we’re on the table with an hour glass. It’s time to shred you down from head to toe, with all the time in the world. It’s time. There will be blood but all the better to see you my dear.