The Failure Letter…

la katrina figurine with yellow dress

Photo by Pixabay on

This photo is actual footage of me being in love and understood. I figure it will only come when I’m on my death bed and I will be hallucinating through the flash of f***boi(s) I’ve encountered in my whimsical life. Bwwwwwaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.

Today as I was feeling melancholy about my station in life. I’ve scrolled through one too many perfect Instagram accounts and tomato plant is dying. I feel a bit grumpy, to say the least.  As I was thumbing though my old journals, I found a letter I wrote during one of my many break-ups in my 20’s. Oh it was rich and also I now see it as a omen to forewarn me that I was always going to be stuck in this fabulous and lonely purgatory.  There are many men who like the idea of a strong, intelligent woman – but those very men don’t actually want to love, build or be vulnerable with a strong, intelligent woman. An oxymoronic situation for women and an emotional conundrum for men.

Here is the macabre display of the 20-something me, confused and perplexed about the emotional ineptitude of someone who was never ever worthy of …. well… me.  Enjoy.


Dear Possibility, 

I’ve tried to fall in love with the rose-coloured memories of who I thought you were; alas I realize you were never that person. 

I’ve tried to leverage our friendship into something powerful, alluring, and deeply sexual. Yet, you see me as trivial and your treatment of me is clearly an indication that you find me – deep in your soul – emotionally ineffectual for real intimacy. (if you even know what that is…) 

There is a loneliness I feel when I talk to you. Many times, I’ve laid next to you and feel so deeply alone – laying next to you felt like a “slow kill”. I may have well been sleeping by myself or next to a rotting corpse. Perhaps because politically and emotionally I felt you were the “walking dead”.

I’ve often wondered do you even want to know me, my story, my evolution… but in my heart, I know the answer is no. You don’t value me, my story and to you I’m “doable” not “beautiful” or “magnificent”. 

I’ve tried to love you. Yet, I certainly love me more than this fruitless, exhausting effort I’m making now.

Like many before you, you aren’t worth of my stellar, all encompassing and enveloping love. Dare I say, you aren’t even worthy of my quirky but loyal friendship. I chose wrong when I chose you. 


I read that letter and I thought to myself – whew – girl you been making bad choices for 2 decades? I do declare. LOL! Then I looked at this letter with my 45year old heart and thought — oh sweet girl, I’m sorry. I’m sorry you saw magic in a simple, common, bastard but that doesn’t negate the love you gave. The love you gave was wholesome, honest, raw and real. You just gave it to the wrong person, sweet young girl. Then I thought about if this was my daughter and my heart kinda broke in half. I would never want my daughter to go through the hurt I’ve been through romantically, physically, emotionally or mentally. Never would I want her to endure what I’ve endured. That’s why I work tirelessly to make sure she has great self-esteem and she makes better, if not superlative choices that lead to the utmost self-preservation.

Before I wrote this blog post I read that letter one last time before typing it up and it made me think, so many times I’ve seen the beauty, strength and possibilities of greatness in people who were not even worthy to get a glimmer of my amazing light and my fabulous “shine”. Perhaps that is another one of my super-powers. Loving people who are incapable of wholly loving themselves and seeing the absolutely dark beauty in people who are broken-beyond-repair.

black and white dead die diving

Photo by Life Of Pix on

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