an open letter

I haven’t written anything in my journal for 4 years.

Maybe a few angry bits and a few hopeful blurbs every now and then, but nothing consistent.

I used to write all the time in one. I have at least 3 journals from my high school years, and several more from college.

But the last 4 years has been a blank empty stare.

I know you know that feeling. I know you understand the feeling of nothingness. I don’t think you understand it in the same context I understand it, but to a certain degree you understand it.

We’ve been on our own paths now for a while. I got a dog. I moved. I got surgery. I started dating. I started therapy. I’ve been meditating. I’ve been reading a lot. I’ve been alone more often than not.

That was always something that bothered me. I don’t think you understood how much I liked being alone. You always thought I needed you. Needed someone. I didn’t need you. We were trauma bonded. You and I come from hard childhoods. I know because you’ve told me. I think a part of me saw my Mother in you. I wanted to heal you. I wanted to heal mine and my mother’s relationship through you.

But I couldn’t. And I can’t, and I never will, and I’ll never get my Mother back, and you and I will never be the way we were. But that’s okay.

We were destroying each other. Slowly but surely, maybe unintentionally, sucking the lives from each other. I’m so happy you left when you did.

I was angry for so long after you discarded me, because that is what you did. Sit with that truth for a moment. You tossed me aside like a used up piece of trash. I saw myself turn into somebody I never thought I would and swore to never be. I turned bitter. Angry. Scared. Avoidant. I couldn’t trust anybody. I still have trust issues with my current partner. I don’t trust men, because I saw and I heard the way you talk about women. I don’t trust friends, because you were supposed to be mine, and you betrayed my trust. But perhaps the worst part is that I still have a hard time trusting myself, because why on earth would I waste all those years on someone like that.

I’m sure you were surprised when I didn’t come back after you baited me. Usually your tactic would work, and you’d have me crawling back to you in no time.

I had to break the cycle. It had to be done. And I’m so happy it did, and I’m so much better without it and I would be truly surprised if you said you weren’t too.

But this isn’t the reason I’m writing this. None of that is. All of that is bullshit from the past. It feels like another lifetime ago and we’re adults now.

I’m writing this because even in the face of all of that, I forgive you.

I forgive you.

I truly, wholeheartedly, forgive you.

I don’t even think you’re an evil person. I did. I really did.

But I don’t anymore. I don’t see an evil demon anymore. I see a scared kid. And I don’t mean that in a belittling way. I see your inner child. And he’s scared, he’s crying out for love but he doesn’t know how to get it. He doesn’t know how to ask for it. He doesn’t even know what it looks like. He wants so badly to be liked. That’s who I see.

I don't think you're evil. I think you are a child who never got to be just that, a child.

So I forgive you for everything.

And I forgive your inner child. And I forgive my inner child, and I forgive myself for embroiling us in this tumultuous fucked up bond.

I started writing again a few days ago. Maybe that’s what’s spawned all of this. I don’t really care why, but I’m glad because I need you to know.

I forgive you. Me. Both of us. I FORGIVE.

Will you do the same?