Cleaning out the Closet

One of my favorite daily reads, Blogging Barbie, had an excellent entry this morning about some of the men from her past. I could feel the pain and the tenderness in each of them. She’s a brilliant writer, everyone should go have a look.

Now, I normally would not take someone else’s idea and use them for myself but Barbie’s entry ran so true to my own issues and my need for closure. With my recent breakup with C and my realizations that I might not have the healthiest tendencies when it comes to men and relationships I thought I should take the opportunity to clean out my closet of baggage so to speak.

Forgive me Barbie, but it was a great idea

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Dear Michigan,

It’s been a long time since things have been normal between us. I always fantasized in high school what it would be like to catch your eye, I never realized it would be such an eye opening experience. That first year I was at Salem we really became good friends. I don’t think you knew how to handle having a female as “just” a friend and I don’t think I knew how to control my curiosity.

That first night I remember all too well. Ms. Blue Eyes begged me to come over to the party and I resisted, “I’m tired. I wanna hang out with my brother” but you wouldn’t have it. You got on the phone and told me, “you’re coming over now.” I still remember the little bubble of queasy excited-ness that developed in my chest. I had never had butterflies before. I knew what would happen… I was by no means a dense girl, just a stupid one.

I quietly snuck out of the room in the morning and didn’t return your calls for a month. When I saw you at the beach, your blue eyes glimmering over your sunglasses with a secret smirk. I didn’t realize I was in so much trouble.

But we went there, two friends unaware of what the consequences would be. I believed despite your ways being a friend would give me leverage. I watched you hurt girl after girl until I found myself in their shoes. And nothing, Michigan, nothing was the same between us. Our friendship was never the same, the group never trusted us again because of the lies we told. It was the beginning of the end, the beginning factor that broke up all of those high school promises.

I thought the heartbreak was the worst pain I could ever feel but I, of course, was wrong. What does a 19 year old girl know about heartbreak? You will forever be remembered in my mind as my first mistake. And everyone makes mistakes. Everyone has those moments of weakness. They are what make us human. But it is something that will always remain between us, something that will never be forgotten. Even now, four to five years later, there is a glimmer in your eye when you pass me a drink at a party, “remember the good times” you tell me.

I try Michigan, I try. But you must understand where as they remain fond friendly memories to you of wild nights and driving too fast down the highway I remember those moments with the knowledge of what that summer cost me. And to be honest, I don’t think it was worth it.

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Dear New York,

You may remain nameless, but I remember every other part of you. I remember the husky sent of alcohol on your breath. The way your left brow curled with your smile. The piercing gray eyes, cold and devoid of any understanding. I remember the way your cupped the back of my head in your hands, “that’s right, like that” you whispered in my ear. The way your body forced me under the ledge of the windowsill with each painful thrust.

I remember the alarm in your eye when I cried and begged you to stop. But you never did. And for that I will never forget your voice, your face, your eyes, your sent. I will never forget. And I will never forgive you.

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Dear North Carolina,

I really messed things up between us. I cheated on you because I was young and I was stupid. I didn’t know how to handle a serious relationship and I could see it in your eyes everyday, how much you truly loved me. I was selfish, and inconsiderate, and wrong. Even after we finally ended things, when I left you crying on the dock by the lake where we skinny dipped on your 21st birthday I went running back time and time again, afraid that no one would love me like you did. I honestly don’t think anyone ever has.

I was your first for a lot of things NC but you were my first real relationship. We have a lot of memories that will always be safe in my mind. But with the way things are between us now I see we really weren’t meant to be. When I said goodbye it should have remained that way but I am a selfish girl. I know how badly I hurt you now. I guess I never realized men could experience the heartbreak and pain women can.

I know things will never be the same between us and our friendship is more then a little strained. It’s non-existent. I know I can’t ask you to forgive me either, but I will tell you I will be sorry everyday.

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Dear West Virginia,

I have two things to say to you.

One, thank you for showing me what the bottom truly is like and letting me see the lowest I can get.

Two, I’m so glad I never have to see, speak, hear, think, remember anything about you for the rest of my life.

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Dear Home Town,

I am sorry. I do not know how many ways I can say it but I feel like I am always apologizing to you. I know you love me. I know you have loved me since we were kids. I know you have this image of me in you mind that I can’t live up too. Part of me loves it and part of me agonizes over the fact that it is just never going to happen. I try not to hurt you, but when I think we are in a good state to just be friends and you understand that I just do not love you like that you bring it up again and beg me for one shot, just one chance to show me how perfect we would be.

And now you’re gone. You joined the Army like everyone else and left the small town we grew up in to find the world. And I pray you’ll find love and adventure and the greatness you are meant for but in the letters you write on US Army stationary I can see it. It’s there in curve of your G when you sign your name or the way you crumble sweetheart at the end of the page. I know you love me even now. And that makes me sorry.

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Dear Mr. Around the World

You’re a horrible excuse for a person. I hate what you say to people about me. I hate that you have turned your entire family against me. And I hate that I lost one of the closest people in the world to me because I broke up with you. I was 19, you were 29. Did you really think we were going to get married and live happily ever after? Did you really think you were in love with me after three weeks?

I feel sorry for you, and I feel sorry for your family. Most of all I feel sorry of him.

He is the only good memory I have of you.

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Dear Kentucky,

I don’t know where we went wrong. In the beginning you pushed so hard and in the end I pushed so fast we just never caught up to each other. I know now it wasn’t completely your fault, my feelings for C got in the way and your inability to be just friends with her got in the way. Still, I find myself looking for you in crowded bars around town. We’ve lived in the same city for a year and I have not ran into you once. You would think I would have seen you sometime.

But I miss you. Moments when someones laugh catches me off guard or someone calls me cutie I have a sad smile on my face. I’m over you, and I know that it was for the best but I suppose I never fully got over us. It was a different kind of relationship for me. I just hate that we hurt each other so badly in the process.

You will forever be in my good thoughts and wishes. Even if I call you lame on occasions. I think I’ll always miss you a little, especially in the summertime.

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Dear South Carolina,

I’m not ready to write this letter yet. It’s only been a few days but it feels like weeks. I know you are driving to Connecticut right now, not thinking about the girl you left behind broken hearted but I am still pretending you are. That you are thinking you made a mistake, you are missing me. I can be so gullible sometimes.

I keep thinking of the past four years, off and on off and on, and can’t help but quiver with the thought that this time it really truly is the end.

You promised me this year would be different. I don’t know if I can forgive you this time for not following through. And I will try to forget you, but I will always miss you. I would have missed you even if I had never met you. And that, my dear sweet C, is all I have to say.

~ by kirbyann on July 2, 2008.