Relationships

"I write to myself, for myself. I would recall the pains I've suffered over my short lifetime, but they are too many and yet too few. I find myself in an arrested state. Afraid of the life ahead, but too indignant to just lay down and die. I do, however, worry about my place in the world. I fear being forgotten; by my friends and family. But mainly, by you. Just like they tell you when someone dies, you must eventually move on. Moving on should be an inevitable part of grieving. But I'm still stuck here grieving, even after all this time. Not over anyone's death. Not over a lover lost. But the loss of myself. I cannot blame anyone directly for this. I tried to not take responsibility for this. I wanted nothing more than to blame away and to get validation from you that this was in fact not my fault. But I refuse to tie myself down to the notion that I, myself, am solely to blame. You are not perfect. You were not perfect. And as much as I wanted to believe, and still do to some extent believe, that you were for me. I am not perfect either, and I never will be. But my jagged edges and frayed ends fit so perfectly with yours. We were two ratty puzzle pieces in some weird, fucked up puzzle. But you trimmed your edges. I'm still left here with my smudges and bent corners. But I kept the memory of who you used to be to me so protected within my cynical little heart that I almost wonder if you ever existed. I do think that one day, after time has passed and we've both trimmed our edges and let them fray again, that we might find what we used to have in one another. I know that this won't be for a long time. And for all I know, it will never come. But until that day, I will keep those shards of you with me. I write to you, for you."

Victoria & I found this on craig's list and thought we'd share. The words are beautiful.