THE LAST LETTER

Why hold someone for something they did while they were only naïve? Oh yes, you did teach me a tough lesson and alter my mindset on certain aspects of life, but that’s okay; we were only young. For years, I have had to cage you so I could roam freely, but was I really free? They say that freedom is only from within ourselves, that it’s a perception. Years have cruised by, and yet the mention of your name still triggers regret and disgust in my heart. Your name still makes me teary. It rekindles that young part of me—the innocent me—that took you for an angel. The naïve me thought it was never a game. You played me, though. You played checkers while I was stuck at chess. You knew all, and you taught me every move like a grandmaster. I had my expectations, you know. I hoped that you would teach me how to love you. I hoped that you would groom me into your perfect half. You only made me cold instead; you convinced me that it was a necessity. You broke my trust, and now I don’t even trust myself. You made me lose love; you know.

I totally related when Khloé Kardashian said, "I didn't buy tickets to this fucking circus, but somehow I'm watching all these clowns act out in front of me. But critically looking at things showed me that I actually bought tickets to your show. Only when I bought them did I think I was entering a limo to be driven to a place where I would get nothing short of VIP treatment.

Damn, was I wrong?

My magical experience quickly turned into a tragic horror story. Clowns usually wear a costume on top of their actual appearances. A coat of paint for their faces so they'd all look similar, even identical. The circus you took me to had you headlining, and I honestly didn't care that no one else was in attendance. You wore layers of lies to be identical to the one I dreamed of. The one I would run off into the sunset with no questions asked. I was there, and I loved each one of your tricks and how you kissed me. Your hands? They touched exactly where I craved them. We vibed nude, you know, like Adam and Eve, clothes on the floor. We saw every last piece of each other. All my weaknesses—how far I was willing to go for you. How hard would I ride for you? Hell, I almost thought I could die for you.

The sun shone brightly on our little party. But then the rain came, and that paint you had on top of who you really were started to wash off. I stayed anyway and grabbed that palette to help repaint the parts of you that the rain had wounded and taken away with it. That was me trying to "heal" you and convince myself that it was going to be alright because, after all, I knew you weren't perfect. More rain came, and I continued to make excuses for you. There were nights when the moon shone so bright and tried to help me find those clothes so I could put them back on and run away from your dimension, but I didn't look her way twice. The thunder became so loud I could literally hear it say to me, "RUN." I stayed with you because I wanted to ride for you no matter what.

But as fate would have it, your paint washed off eventually, and there you were standing right in front of me. I could see that you were nothing like the one. And maybe that would have been okay if you had given me the chance to choose you over them in the beginning, but no! You lied to my face while you hid yours behind that paint. You took me to a circus, and I took a ride on every last roller coaster there was. That whole thing we had going on was an illusion you conjured. You were a master of your craft, and I will have to give you that. It's almost impressive. It's traumatic too, because now I see clowns in everyone who gets too close. I'm always waiting for the other shoe to drop. You took that soul I used to have to class. A place where it slowly took parts of itself and kept them locked away. That soul became a prodigy at keeping its walls up, and to this day, it fights me from within. It’s pretty strong, but the monster you made can contain her. It hurts, though. Love is supposed to be magical, but you made it such a tragic destination for me.

And hey, I heard you moved on like none of it mattered. You c*nt.

You know, I haven’t been to church in years, but I sat through a sermon last night, and the preacher said, “If they hurt you, keep them in your prayers,” and that vengeance is for the Lord. To say that I was moved is an understatement. Look, I know that humans are not perfect. I don’t even hate you, or do I? I think I hate myself instead. I blame myself for being so vulnerable to you. All these years, it wasn’t even about you; it was about me. So, let us bow our heads in prayer, please.

“I pray for you.

I pray that as you wake up tomorrow morning,

You catch a very bad cold and have absolutely no one to help you.

I pray that, as you walk to the bathroom,

You slip, fall, and break a tooth or two.

I pray that when you enter the shower, the water is too hot.

and it causes you some deep wounds.

I pray that, as you drive to work,

You drive into a cliff, but I don’t want you to die yet.

I pray that, if you ever find love,

It’s perfect!

I pray that they give you the world and

I pray they are the reason you give life a second chance.

I pray you see your life together and

I pray you even see a family with them.

I pray they make you feel so loved and comfortable.

I pray that they become your home and

I pray that you introduce them to all your friends and tell them that you’re so happy.

I pray you tell your parents about them and how you found the love of your life.

I pray that they are your best and that they feel like your perfect missing piece.

And when you get comfortable, feeling like you have finally found love.

I pray they leave.

I pray they walk out on you and leave you with your unfulfilled dreams.

I pray they lead you into the pits you led me to.

I hope they cause you to hate your life and question the reason for your existence.

I pray they make you cry as much as I did for you and

I pray that as you go through all this, you will be able to remember what you took me through, and you will hate yourself even more.

I pray it all comes back to you, and I pray God gives you a share of what you deserve and more.

Amen.”

The preacher spoke straight to my soul, and I think I’ll give church another try; after all, they said it is a solace for the sick, weary, and broken. That it is where we can find sanity again. For we are called because we are his own, so here I am with my broken smile and shattered heart, hoping I can finally find healing. One I have sought after for a while now. This is my last letter to you.

PS: You always asked me to write our love story, so here it is.

~The Imperfect Writer x Word Choreography x Moldrine

The Imperfect Writer, "Wow! Just wow"

Word Choreography, " At first, I wondered what a collab would be like, now I have seen it, it is like a song, a Remix"

Moldrine, "Excusseeeeee me ssirrrrrr"