"Who breathed your breaths and thought your thoughts and willed your life to live?"

22 January 2009
Washington, DC

[Unsent]


Dear Long Lost.

      I wish there was a way to explain the hurt to you. Trust me, I believe that you don’t mean it, I have to believe that. After all, the only people I’ve ever really hurt in my life have been those I was trying not to. That’s the worst hurt, isn’t it? But I just don’t understand why you can’t tell me.

      Who else do you think knows every part of you? Who else saw you cry? Who held you tight, who held you close, who stroked your hair and promised things would be okay? Who else sat with you in midnight hours, Long Lost? Who else refused to sleep until you slept? Who refused to eat until you ate? Who breathed your breaths and thought your thoughts and willed your life to live?

      I know every part of you, and yet you would keep this from me? You would break the last promise you ever made me in good faith? I can’t help but wonder what I’ve done to warrant your mistrust (if that’s even what it is). Was there something more I could have done? Something more I could have given? But looking around I see nothing: you already have it all. So I sit here writing letters, wondering why?

      Have pity on me, Long Lost. Have pity.

Beseeching, with love,
      --