Thursday, 4 June 2009

letter never sent

Dear Rochester,

Here's the thing. I spend an eternity composing letters/ emails/ texts to you in my head. I sometimes sit with my phone in my hand, considering how if I tippety-tap a few numbers I could speak to you. I am too much of a coward to do it.

I saved my old mobile phone. I even charged it up the other day, just so I could read the one (and only) tender and loving text you ever sent. One of the few that didn't include your favourite ditty 'you're a cunt Elizabeth' - or,if you were being deliberately vexing and grammatically provocative, 'your a cunt Elizabeth.' It also has a photo of you being a seedy pool shark (or possibly more of a pool haddock) in my local flea pit pub on Christmas night. You are surrounded by kitsch and tatty Poundshop decorations and are broodingly contemplating your next move on your lezza opponent. That wasn't your first valiant conquering of a lady with 'Venetian tendencies', was it? At least you managed not to impregnate her I suppose.

The point of this? I miss you terribly. I thought the world of you. I adored the fluidity of our nonsensical banter. Muddling through modern life, I feel a bit like Alice falling through the looking-glass. Why is everything so strange? Why are people so peculiar? Why is it all so goddamn prickly and frightening? Yet I felt curiously at ease and comfortable with you. And your slightly out-of-step cantankerous oddity. That is unusual for me.

The first time I met you I was amazed at how familiar you seemed. You were exactly the way I imagined you would be. In every way. I was massively attracted to you. I loved spending time with you. You made me smile. Even when we weren't together, thinking about you would make me smile.

So. It ended. It really is the one thing in life that completely floors me. Losing people I care about. My absolute terror about meeting you that first time was the fear that it would lead to this. Would lead to this sadness. That is why I prevaricated so much. Because it mattered to me. I been on dozens of date with ne're-do-wells I felt only neutral about. I would agree to meet them without so much as a second thought.

So, there have been 1000 letters never sent to you (it is also the name of a favourite REM song). So I shall post it here, and at least I have said it. The one thing I absolutely wanted, when we were together, was to be completely open and guileless.

Every day there is something I want to say to you. Every day I miss you. Every day I wonder whether you feel remotely the same. Whether I will hear from you.

That is all. I long to see you. Please say something.


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