A Letter to Someone Long Gone
This piece is a bit different to what I’d normally write. It’s a letter inteded to be for someone who was really important to me. They want nothing to do with me. And so it’s in that spirit that I write it here instead. I choose to do this because I understand that what I talk about in this letter is something most everyone can relate to on some level, but especially if you’ve struggled with mental illness. If reading this can appeal to just one person, it’ll have been worth it.
Hey
I know it’s been a long time. I can’t even remember when we last spoke, it’s all been really fuzzy to me, and I’m sorry about that. I wish I had been more present, but we both know that me being around you was causing you more grief than you ever deserved. I don’t know how to begin this apology, so I guess I’ll just start and see where it ends up. But I do want you to know that the only thing I care about is apologizing. I am sorry.
I treated you awfully. What makes it even worse is that I hurt you, even though I had spent so long protecting you from that same kind of hurt. I failed you on every account I can think of. Even reaching out to you now, I know it’s unlikely you’ll ever read this. I know. I can’t imagine what you must think of me. Maybe you think that I got what I wanted by pushing you away, but that’s never what I wanted.
I was so scared of losing you because of everything that was going on. In my mind I wasn’t able to reconcile those few moments of negativity with all the good between us. You made a simple mistake, you raised your voice at me a couple of times and my twisted mind used that to convince me you didn’t care. That you weren’t worth it. I am sorry about everything I may have said. I know apologizing about them at the time didn’t help, and I doubt it does any good now, but I need to try.
In the time since we’ve last spoken, I’ve had a lot of time on my own. I’ve learned a lot about how ugly so many of my thoughts are, and how ugly they’ve always been. More than that I learned how much better my thoughts were when I was with you. You found a person who could give nothing of value to anyone at all, and you taught me that was wrong. I can’t stop thinking about the good we did together, for so many people and for each other.
In the time since I also got worse for a time. Eventually, I was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder. When I got the news it made me understand so much of my whole life, and even more about why you were so good for me. Now BPD is not an excuse for what I did. I did everything I did and I take responsibility for that. And I feel horrible about it. But my pledge is that now that I know the rationale behind my thinking, I know how to cure it. I have taken steps to be a better person, and I know I still have long to go.
Of course, me trying to be better shouldn’t alone be a good reason for you to come back into my life. It’s just the only thing I can promise about the person I’m trying to be and that’s inspired by you and the love you showed me. All I ask is that you consider if my friendship would be better for your life. Truthfully, this letter is selfish. I could go on letting you live your life, but I know you, and I know you feel awful about everything that went so poorly between us. I want to reach out to you because I’m weak. Because I can’t live with myself knowing I left you to hurt the way that I did.
I could try and excuse myself. Say I was going through grief when my friend died, say I had undiagnosed mental illness and although these things are true, they don’t change the fact that I should have been better. I can’t forgive myself for any of the things I’ve done. More than that I struggle to live with losing you. Knowing that you were part of my life and I lost you because I was too unstable.
I have no guarantee that you’ll ever read this. In fact I don’t believe you will. So again writing this letter essentially becomes an exercise for myself. I’ll be the only one that reads it and has to live with the fact that you’re much better off without me. And unfortunately you probably are.
I’m sorry for everything. I hope you’re okay. I try to justify losing you in my head saying that our friendship was only supposed to be that long. You taught me how to care, and I taught you that you were worthy of life. And now we can leave each other nothing said. But I’m greedy, and I’m selfish. I can’t stand the idea of wanting something and not at least trying to get it. So if this doesn’t work, as much as it hurts me, I won’t call on you again.
Remember that I love you, and I miss you. I will always be here in case you ever have need for me again, but until that time, I have to promise not to reach out to you again, for both of our sakes.
Take Care,
Your friend, Sam.
I never heard from them, and later found out they never even read the letter so it was pointless. I can’t blame anyone for that. Looking back there are parts of the letter I don’t agree with. I still regret my actions, but with fresh eyes even I realize that I excused a lot of their behavior too. They had their own mental health issues, that were readily apparent which they didn’t seek help for, despite my insistence. I felt guilty for not being able to convince them to make better decisions, but being far removed I understand I did everything I could do. Even this is more painful then you’d think because it means I have no control.
Perhaps the worst thing, even with all these realizations about how awful and codependent that relationship was, I still miss them. I miss them so much. I knew it would be hard losing them, but this pain has proved to be far greater than I had ever envisioned. I think this letter stands as a moment frozen in time. A moment where I was confused, hurt, and so desperate to get something back. The truth is some things we want just aren’t good for us.
I still go back and forth. I’m still not the person I want to be, but I try very hard to get there. There are days when I think I’ll never feel the way I felt with them, and there are days when I don’t care. The only certain thing I know now is that I don’t want to know where they are or what they do. To think of them is to feel pain. The pain of knowing I was abandoned, by the one person in this life who made me feel loved and understood. I don’t want to think about them.
I live with the suspicion I may never stop missing for them. It may never stop. This terrifies me more than anything. The fear that comes from knowing that some part of you has been altered by someone other than you, is worse to me than so much else. All I can hope to do is keep fighting. To have the awareness and the cognizance to be better, and make the right choices. And if one person reading can learn from my missteps, it’ll have been worth it.
