It is rare that I write a letter so publicly but I need to say something to a few people so,
- To the boss that told me that I cannot make it, this is for you.
- To the lover that took the six pounds of flesh she wanted and it still wasn’t enough, this is for you,
- To the father who stopped fighting to breathe, this is for you,
- To the lovers that pop up only when they need me, this is for you,
Today, on this evening, you win. I am not resilient enough to fight for my right to success. I am not confident enough to tell you to leave me alone, dear lover. I am not strong enough to battle my longing to see you daddy. I am not caring enough about myself to say no. These growing pains are just too much today. You will say it’s a phase we go through. But today, I am stopping trying to keep all our your negative comments at bay any longer, to keep all of your off my mind. I see the dark circles, the gained weight and the tears that fall as I sit in the shower. I feel the water so that I don’t feel the weight of my tears in my stained cheeks. So for today, you all have won your battles with me.
Enviably, they are the select few who get to solely expressing the mild manner of emotions. They don’t see the spectrum of emotions and the ever-lasting effects caused by spontaneously erupting factors and experiences. These are the experiences that throw you off balance. It’s an undesired ‘Throwback Thursday’ on a Friday. It’s ironic that your remember won’t casually allow you to feel the depths of her presence until the in amongst the thick of it. Only to finally look up from your storm to an “oh crap!” When the pain, excruciatingly sharp and overfamiliar, visits like she never left. The softness of my chest has pricked my eyes and I fold. Oh how I simply wish that a wound could only be matched in size and severity by the cut that made it. And my oh my, doesn’t that walk home feel long today.
In a month, on the 15th of September, I would have been saying I do. I would have walked down the aisle. Instead, I am sitting on my balcony, of my shared house with three related strangers, and cry. I cry for the pain I have caused myself and others. I cry for the wrongdoing that can shaped me. I cry for the pain to lift. I pray for the tears to stop falling. But this isn’t a depressive monologue (despite it feeling like it), no I just needed to get that out the system. I am clearly out of my shower, I picked myself up off the floor and said “enough Ivy”. Enough of the self pity party for one. Go dine with reality. She herself radiates improbity whilst dressed to kill in the latest normcore. Blend in with the crowds until you feel your pulse again. Play the song on repeat until you breathe the same beat.
I am going away for the 15th for 9 days. I am leaving my life behind and working it all out. I am going at it alone. I want to feel the quietness of the night and see what comes out of my system. I want to leave the lights off and watch the stars be born. Listen to the thousands of silent whispers of failed expectations, hopefully desires, and woeful mercies. My voice will only then feel like it’s one in a million. My self-neglected flourished voice can be silenced by the damned, condemned and the unfortunate.
I am counting the weeks, the days down. Give me strength team Ivy. I am here asking for your words, your supportive nature. I am asking for a hand up.
I’ll be back soon.