Another drunk letter to a stranger

Dear Stranger,

Another six week until we meet again. Am I allowed to admit that I am scared shitless? What if you don’t like me anymore? And what if we will not meet in the end? Gosh… We haven’t spoken in weeks. How are we supposed to be able to see each other face to face. With our past standing between us? I am not the woman you think I am. I need your encouragement to see this through. You’ll be 45 in two weeks. You are a man who saw the world and lived two lives. Me, I am 24 and inexperienced in most parts of life. I don’t want to blame my past, but if you grow up the way I did… Ha… Who cares? Not you. Yeah… Those words hurt. You should care. You really should. It’s me we’re talking about. The one you’ll let slip through your fingers. And you will regret it for the rest of your life. I don’t want your love. I just want you to see me, the way I see you. I see through your bullshit although I am not visible at the moment for you. It’s my own choice. Fear and hope. Please forget me. Please don’t ever forget me. Six weeks. I want to put my nose against your neck and feel your breath against my skin. Your eyes on me. Your words, just for me. We are cowards. We will stand in the same room, wondering if the other is there or if the other is thinking about us, but we will not get in touch. We will lose the opportunity. Maybe the only one we’ve got. One chance. And the way I know us, we will blow it. Or maybe that’s just me, yeah, maybe that’s just me.

Where are you now? I haven’t seen nor heard anything from you in such a long time. Please be okay. Please don’t disappear on me. Please don’t forget me.

As long as there is cum in my balls and a mind in my brain, I will never forget you.

Still the most romantic thing I was ever told. I wish it was true.

Dear stranger, six more weeks. Do something. Court me. I will be yours, there’s no doubt about it. You just have to want me again. Please want me.

Gosh… I am pathetic, pleading and begging…

I will never send this letter your way. Doesn’t mean that I am not thinking these things.

Oh and in case you were wondering. I am well. Thank you for asking.

Lots of love,

C

Dear stranger

Dear stranger,

It has been a while, hasn’t it? May was the last time we spoke. May 8th. Not that I am keeping track, but I remember the day. Since then, I deleted your number from my phone. Not because I despise you or don’t want us to be in touch, but you told me to wait for you and that’s what I am doing. Waiting has never been my strongest quality and I know that I am waiting in vain. This – this entire situation is harder on you than it is on me. I guess it should be the other way around, but I can’t change it. And I don’t regret it either. Sure, for you everything is different and I can’t pretend to understand you, your motives, your reasons, or your actions. I can’t and that’s a fact. Once, we agreed that we need to be friends and trust one another. Maybe we trust each other but I don’t think that we are friends. We never shared anything that really mattered. We never were in love. Just in lust from time to time. And with our lust, desire, passion, we broke limits and boundaries. Maybe a couple times too often? Yes, maybe. Certainly. Some of it was my fault. I enabled you and didn’t stop you when I should have said no. I gave you my control when I should have taken control. I let you be the dominant one when I should have been. I write this right now because I do miss you. For a week now, I wasn’t sleeping right and I blame it on you. Your presence in my mind. And I worry. Also, I want to know how you are. And selfishly, I also want you to remember me. You will never forget me. I know that for sure and yet… I want to touch you again. I like your social media posts just to make you see that I am still there. Maybe we will never speak again. Maybe we will be an active part of each other’s lives soon again – truth is, it doesn’t matter. We will always have our memories. You will be a memory. And in many years time when I can grandchildren, I will tell them all about you. (The censored version! But come to think about it, then there isn’t much to talk about.) I wish that my presence how ever short or intense left some sort of impact on your life. Preferably a good one. I will never know what you won’t tell me.

I am still there…

xx

Letter to a stranger

Dear stranger,

You have not always been a stranger in my life. You used to be a part of it. Of me. You could still be a part of it (of me) if you wanted to be. My arms are still open. As it is, you became a stranger. When we pass each other on an open road, we lower our heads and wish we could turn back time, but there are no visible signs that we were once lovers. Sinners. Nobody knows our secret. 

You’ve been gone for six months now. Things happened, life moved on and I let go of you and of the feelings I felt for you. But once in a while, like this weekend, the feelings come back. And I wonder. Do you ever wonder? What could have been? What would have been? Do you sometimes wish to not lower your head when our paths cross but to acknowledge what we had and who we were? I guess you don’t. I guess these are silly thoughts of a woman who cannot let go. I should though. And I know it. But as much as I hated what we were, I loved it too. And I would do it all again. In a heartbeat and without regrets. A year is a long time. I changed during the year we spent together. I became a woman who was able to see her qualities. I accepted myself for who I was. Because you told me how beautiful I am and you told me how beautiful my mind is. With you gone, that affirmation is gone too. And I am invisible to my own eyes again. I know, it shouldn’t be this way, but it is. It is my truth. If only I could reach you again. If only I could touch you again. But it will not happen. And I will keep wondering if your thoughts drift to me before you fall asleep, and if you compose messages for me that you never send. 

There are no words that are meaningful enough to tell you how much you mean to me and how much you meant to me. And while I write these words, I keep thinking that I am not in love. I am not in love. I am just in need. I am in need of the person who seemed to be a soul mate to me. I miss the understanding and the way that nothing was complicated between us, unless we let the world complicate it. I miss your gentle voice in my ear and the way you said my name. The voice is fading. I should have kept a record of it. But I didn’t. I don’t have anything physical that reminds me of our time. No evidence at all. Just the memories in my head. And I am afraid that they will change from what really was into what I wished it would have been. 

The door is still wide open. The hole you left gaping wide is waiting for your presence to fill it again. And I am afraid that the hole will get bigger and bigger until I vanish inside of it. And I will be gone. It was easy to cope with your loss, at first. I was strong and too many things were changing in my life, I didn’t have the time to let my emotions rule me. But now that I fell and walked back into the dark, I am reminded of how much you are missed. I shouldn’t miss you. I shouldn’t write to you when I am not well. I should show you how well I am and how much success I have now. Fuck it. You saw me at my best and at my worst and you handled it well. Or I like to pretend that you did. I mean, there are reasons why you left when you did. I am sure that I drove you away. I sucked the light out of you and was too demanding. The novelty of me had worn off too. And, you couldn’t deal with the fact that I understood. I saw you for who you were and my arms and my heart were still open for you. I wasn’t scared or appalled. No, I was there. And I will always be there for you. Whenever you choose to come back, I will be there.

Ah dear stranger. Wouldn’t it be nice to not be strangers anymore? Wouldn’t it be nice to be lovers again? Two lovers in the morning sun. Overwhelmed with lust. And connecting on every possible level. The romantic in me tries to resurface. The realist wants me to say goodbye with this letter. 

One last goodbye. But the memories… They are too meaningful to forget. Too important to hide in a closet. They are everything.

We will meet again, Sweetie. Ja? Say my name and I will be yours again.

Goodbye stranger.

Your almost-lover