Tuesday, September 3, 2013

A letter from all those who relate to the ones who don't:

Dear lover,
Please don't be predictable this one time. 
I know it is a little dangerous to ask for something like this because I might just encounter another level of human atrocity. 
Please don't tell me you will cheat on me. I have had far too much of the mundane.
Please give me a new story to tell this one time if you choose to leave.
Please tell this one time that it is me and not you. Please tell me that I am at fault. I lacked somewhere and I failed you. Because, dear love, you have failed me just too many times.
Love, tell me that when you leave, you will take away whatever is yours and return to me whatever belongs to me. The list includes my self respect, my strength, my youth and my ability to heal.
It is not about the warmth of your hug. I couldn't care less about it right now. When you leave, please spare the warmth that is mine. It makes for the right temperature for the fire within me to burn. Don't take away my fire either.
Please don't turn me into something I am not. Don't change me into someone I don't aspire to be. 
My love, tell me you will not blame me for your shortcomings. You will take the blame for your faults and hopefully never repeat them with anyone else. For no one deserves such pettiness. 
I want to wish you well, so don't lie to me and say you still love me. I don't want to be loved by you anymore. I am an improved version of my self each day. If you are not improving, then I want the latest improved, better-ed version of love. I want to love myself too, hence I am teaching myself that I deserve better.
My love, if you are trained to hear an apology but can't utter it genuinely yourself, please walk out now before you give me some silly excuses about walking out on me.
It is best you walk out in silence and leave the door behind you just a little open. Enough for sorrows to escape and enough for me to peep through if new love wants to come in.
Love, don't leave the wires of our music system entangled. I might want to move out in a hurry, and carry with me the music of our love in happier times with me. Entangling the wires of our systems would only delay you and me.
Please don't test my patience and my resilience. It is not for you to test. You were to be my partner, not my interrogator.
Take your stinky socks and used under wears with you. My house is not a free laundry junction. Your junk is yours. Your baggage is yours.
My lover, please don't be shocked if Karma slaps you in the face real hard. By the time it slaps you, chances are I would be better off and would have made best friends with it.
You and I, cannot be friends any more.

With a lot of satisfaction
And very little regard,