The Letter I Never Sent

Dearest Dear,

I know it’s been awhile since we’ve talked or even exchanged insubstantial pleasantries. In fact, I can’t even remember that last time your name came up in conversation. Still, I feel there are things that needed to be said even after all this time has passed. 

I know you might still be angry, or elated … maybe a bit of both. I wouldn’t know since we seem to have lost contact – neither of us taking the time to give a damn and both of us more than happy to let the distance and time to grow between us.

I’ve often thought that maybe it’s better this way. Maybe this is the way it should be. Maybe we both feel ‘off the hook’, as you once suggested … or was it me? Still, there are times when all the old feelings rush back to me … and somewhere deep inside me a subtle urge begins to build, boiling my psyche alive.

Regret is not a word that comes easily to me … or for you. Guilt? Well, I think we can both say it was mutual, couldn’t we? I played my part and you played your hand. We both had roles to play … and vice versa … and those were the times when we weren’t even playing each other for fools!

I’m sure you might suggest we simply used each other in ways that were conveniently inconvenient to each other, despite our best intentions. Nevertheless, I digress. And, rehashing the past is not the reason I’m writing, with hat in hand and a brim full of sincerity. What’s past is past. I’m sure you would agree that our parting was inevitable, wouldn’t you? But still … there is a morsel of remorse for something that was lost, or simply left behind.

You must think I’m crazy. I can see you now, laughing while you stab your cigarette into your forearm and imagine my downing another shot of ‘cold turkey’ followed by a chaser of bile. It’s ok, I forgive you for your vivid lividness, as well as your subconscious efforts to repress all that transpired between us.

You’ve moved on … I’ve moved on …. laterally, at least. I’m sure we’ve both reconciled the time lost. Yet,  it still doesn’t excuse the loss, the indifference, the lack of consolation … and the hollow vacancy of limbo that lingers, a vagrant vulgarity of senselessness and selfishness. It is how we left it, isn’t it? At least, after all this time … at least that much I’ve been able to come to terms with. And so, I’m writing to you again … like never before.

Whether it was intentional or not, I don’t know. The last I remember of our conversation was the silent awkward pause that hung in the air like a bad odor. That was before you got up and left abruptly … or maybe it was me. 

Of course there are those who would say that there are somethings better left unsaid. I don’t know, but now … after the days have grown long and the memories short … I just can’t help but feeling compelled to right all wrongs and say what perhaps should have been said way back when.

Perhaps it’s too late now and these words ring tardy and trite. Perhaps these letters and spaces will fall on deaf ears … or since you are no doubt reading this, on blind eyes. But please know that with every fiber of my angst filled existence I am truly ……………….


Suggested Reading:

The Art of the Personal Letter: A Guide to Connecting Through the Written Word  Webster's New World Letter Writing Handbook  1001 Letters For All Occasions: The Best Models for Every Business and Personal Need For the Love of Letters: A 21st-Century Guide to the Art of Letter Writing

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