I want you to know, I named my couch after you — your real name that is. I named it after you because it makes me feel warm and safe, and I lie in it, curled up in a ball, on days when the heat from my window seeps in too strongly. I named it after the you I knew in the beginning, because that’s how I want to remember you by.
This will not be a letter to recount what happened to us. This is a letter to apologize. I do know this is less for you, that it is more of an exercise of understanding for myself. It has been three years now. It has taken me that much time to grow and expand, and therefore be able to say this to you truly, sincerely. You see, since then I grew to know my anger. It was not pleasant. I lost others because of it. It is still difficult to talk about. It is still difficult to recall and admit. In fact, it has taken me an hour just to get to this paragraph.
I was losing control of my world and I felt lost, and I did not know how to even begin to understand what was happening to me. I remember that I did not even really know how to express, that mostly I just kept it to myself. I wrote it down in letters or scripts (Do you remember that? When I wrote it down and read it aloud to you?). But most of the anger, I took, folded up neatly, and kept inside. And now I know that when you do that, it does not go away, it does not stay the way you left it either.
My anger grew, it grew into the most horrid thing I’d ever seen. It grew into this monster-woman that frightened me, that I couldn’t recognize. She lashed out uncontrollably. I am now glad I cut off ties with you when I did, because I am glad you never truly got to meet her.
This is difficult, what do I even want to say?
It is this. That when I was strong enough to do so, I sat with my anger and got to know her. I listened to what she had to say, I listened to what she felt and why. And it was so difficult, all the loneliness I had to swim through in order to reach her. It was difficult to hear, to believe, difficult to hold her — because she told me every little thing I could not accept about myself, could not let go or let go control of, every little and big fear about the past and the future.
And now I know that all my anger towards you was rooted in this, that I was afraid of what I would lose, I was afraid that I was unlovable, and I was afraid of being left behind. My anger was born out of fear and so my actions were rooted in fear. For the hurt that came to you from my anger, I apologize.
Since then I have learned to sit with own my fears, so that hopefully, I no longer project them on to other people. I learned to sit and listen and see what I needed, so that hopefully I no longer have to seek them out desperately from others — like I understand now, that I desperately sought what I thought I needed from you. I learned to hold what I had and I learned to let go and let pass what I could not control. I learned to know my own pace and welcome my own time, my own beat, my own rhythm. Most of all, I learned to truly, truly look at myself and love myself.
Oh, none of that was easy, most of it was excruciating, extended, ugly pain! But I am here now, and here I am, able to say this. I am truly sorry for what happened to us, but I am glad of it all, the good and the ugly parts. I am sorry it happened the way it did, but it put me on the road to learning all this, to knowing myself, and for that I will always hold you in gratitude. So I wish you well, wherever you are now, whether you are here or there where you wanted to go. I wish you happiness and steady hands. And may your arm tattoos always be protected from burns.
And you know, I truly did love you, and so truly do — all your yellow brightness and warmth that I remember.
In love and truth,