Letter to Darling - "Let Me Go"

Sometimes the best way to move on is to forget. You can train your brain to forget, as it turned out. But you just don't know when the memories would be coming back to hunt you.

Letter to Darling - "Let Me Go"

I think we fall into the same pattern as we did before. I read the things I wrote about us from 1998, and it was the same pattern that I was establishing this time around. I don't want to repeat the pattern. 

I think we need to progress and advance as human beings. But the dynamics of two individuals don't change it appears! Whatever it is before it stays there. How we interact does not change. How we respond to each other don't change.

I am not sure if you know what I mean by this because I'm a chick and you are a dude. But take for what it is worth, I am at risk of falling into the same pattern. I don't want to repeat it. 

I like the emotional connection aspect of things more than the physical part, at least that is what I've been trying to tell myself, but then I read the things I wrote about you and our interaction 13 plus years ago, down to the little details I felt now – it was exactly the same, that’s what’s so scary, how I felt about you, your physical attributes, your behavior, your pattern of speech, how I observed the way we slept together, it was all the same, except because of the gaping memory hole, I thought all I felt was new, brand new.

I am older, wiser, I think I have finally grown up, and more responsible, more in tune with my feelings and more interested in exploring the deeper human connection that I once articulated to you when we first met up again.

The only way for me to break this pattern is to change the dynamics. I don’t know if I could. But I’ll try.  

I need to stop sleeping with you. I need to stop longing for you. I need to stop feeling sad when you repeat the same pattern. I need to stop feeling.

When I feel for you, I’m energized, I’m inspired, and I feel alive.

But for twelve years, I had stopped feeling that way. I liked that muddled emptiness more, for I didn’t have to feel the valleys that came with the peaks. I liked when I had no recollection what it was like to feel the high, and I liked when I had thought that I had forgotten about you, forgotten what it was like once upon a time. 

I wrote about you in the spring of 1998.  I am now at the risk of falling, falling into the pattern, the same pattern when you first fed me small bites of ice cream at that tiny ice cream shop the spring of 1998. Perhaps I had blocked out those memories for good reason. It allowed me to move on the first time.

Let me go, then. Let me move on. Let me leave, this time, and never come back. Let me cry, on my own, when no one was watching. For the second time, mourning the loss of this feeling, once again.