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[19 Nov 2003|03:50pm] Dear Robert The day before I left London, you let me know it was ok to feel awkward sometimes. We fumbled and stuttered our way through sex, and kissed our way through silence in a manner that can only be described lust driven. There was a need for acceptance on both parts that I devoured, and I don’t think I could ever forget. You left a bruise on my thigh and a faint mark on my neck, and left me feeling lucky to know the feeling of safe desperation, subdued infatuations and perfect nothingness. Though I do not, and could never, love you; I will adore you. In my mind, you will be a turning point that let me so fearfully accept that some things cannot be changed, and some feels can fade, if you give them time, and tender words, and much needed attention. I hate to think that I might have hurt you, and want you to know that all I have ever wanted for you is the love I think I now understand, and the want to be with someone so badly it aches, and the realisation that some needs can only be filled by other people. Some things are worth waiting for, and some mistakes are far too much fun to make only once, though lessons must be learnt. All the same, I hope I never loose you, or what we have had, and a friendship which I see great potential in. Thank you. Thank you for your willingness. Your frustration and self control. Your softer side. And for everything that you have become and will be. 1 comment|post comment

[18 Nov 2003|03:49pm] Dear Alex Part of Laura will never forgive you for the way you have let this slip by. You know as well as I do that she is vulnerable, but she is not weak and she is not stupid. You underestimate her ability to handle the saddest facts and the angriest thoughts. Though there have been moments we have discussed her in context to her childishness, she has grown up. She is an adult, she is a woman, a beautiful one at that. She is a bright young thing that deserves more respect that I can adequately convince you of. You know that I care about you as a friend, you also know the reasons I was so upset when first started dating her. You know why sometimes I like to hide away, and you know why sometimes I want to protect Laura. But the latter simply is not my job, nor is it yours. There is a danger, as you and I both know, of patronising, though you are quite open. The reasons I am sometimes a little harsh on you, is because Laura is like a sister to me. Not a little sister, but an equal. I wish you could understand how your switch between over-protection and apathy can hurt her so much. It is not because she over-reacts sometimes, as we all do. Nor is it because she is being over-sensitive, more because you can be so unbelievably insensitive sometimes, though I do not believe you are aware of how badly so. You know I respect your intelligence, and have nothing but the wildest hopes that you will be happy, and know how much you really have within you, but until that day, don’t go pushing away the people who love you with such a blind love that I am scared it will never end, and understand that you have a control over the one person I would tell anything too, a thought which terrifies me. She loves you because she is strong, because she is right, because she can’t not. Don’t abuse a love so valuable, she will be the best friend you have ever had, give her a chance to prove that you need her too. Or I can tell you one thing, from experience, you will learn the hard way. And so will she. post comment

[17 Nov 2003|03:51pm] Dear Amy I will forget these worries and take with me these acceptances. I could never be your MD, or match your knowledge and fight your words. Inexplicably, you will always be so far out of my reach, though I know you try so hard to let me know that it does not have to be this way. It always will be. However, nothing and no-one can change that whenever I walk past the NFT, or pick up the words of Virginia Wolfe or listen to the achingly beautiful songs of Ani Difranco, I will secretly be thinking of you, and all that could have been, all that is and all that will be. Whatever you, or I, or we, or even they can make it. Please see that I am trying so hard to understand what went wrong, and why I could not talk to you. And I still hate that I was so easily pushed into thoughts that I did not really share. I could apologise over and over for the mistakes that I have made, and the doubts I have had. I will keep the letters you have written and the tracks you have chosen. And I hope that you will let me keep you too, as a friend who so entirely taught me to be someone new and still accept the parts of myself I had always despised. Here’s to many years or hoping, and laughter and letter writing, and wine, and tears. And a mutual friends wedding, and days, so far ahead that we cannot see, when we will sit watching old movies, eating chocolate, and remembering what it is to be love-struck, and sweet, and unknowing together. post comment

[12 Nov 2003|03:48pm] Dear Leah I hope you know what you’re in for with this, the long and heavy fall. I wish you well. Make him happy, because I never could. post comment

[11 Nov 2003|03:42pm] Dear Sam You asked me why I could not sleep some nights, and why there were days when I was not with you, though I stood and walked and breathed in the same rooms as you. But I don’t really have an answer. To be honest with you, sometimes, I just felt no connection with the world whatsoever. And all I can do is tell you I wish I could talk sometimes but then I can never really find the words. It’s a shame I suppose, if you look at in certain lights. Because there is so much I wish I could share with you but know I never will. Now I have the time to figure out everything we went through, I know that it was all a mess. It was desperation and all abiding numbness that pushed us together and pulled us apart in the end. And for so endless moments, came between us, even when we both know, I did not want us to fall apart. Despite what you may think now, I hope you will someday understand the long distance thing wouldn’t have worked. For me, I had to do it for me. And for the first time in a long while, you were not my first priority, and this is the result. Sadly enough, I could not take with me what we had, I have taken along with me moments and memories, and mementos and all those tiny things that not even time can erase. All those lessons I learnt, those things you can only learn through fighting and screaming and laughing your way through life, and more often than not, hurting yourself along the lines somewhere, coming of the rails with a crash. What could I say now? Only goodbye, because for sure, you no longer wish to know me. Despite my adamant refusal to accept all the responsibility, you might well still place it on me. I know I said and did stupid things. But I never cheated on you, I never wished for you to be gone from my life, and I swear, I swear to god, I never ever wanted for you to be hurt. But then you were, and I didn’t know how I could take that away. I know now I can’t, just as you can’t take away the anger you invoked in me, and all those arguments and stony silences and ultimatums. I know I pushed you away, but then, you didn’t pull me in either. Maybe it was me, maybe is was us. Some nights now, I lie awake still. But I do not think of you. I think of what might come of me in the future. It is sad that I can’t see you there anymore; in fact, no longer even sad. It’s just a painful thought, to know how much I fucked up with you, how you fucked with Ella. How everything was so completely messed up in the last few weeks that I never really got to say goodbye. I suppose it doesn’t matter now. Good luck with what you have and all I know you have the potential to achieve. I’m sorry you felt I wasn’t enough, that you felt you had to try and pick up my pieces, that you felt Ella was better than me, that you had to hate her, that you had to lie. Maybe these are all because of how you saw me, see me still. I’m sorry you cannot see me now, because a lot has changed. Maybe you would not recognise me. For the best, a chance to say hello and not goodbye; at the least, to know I am human too. And that on some days, I might miss you, if only for a second. post comment

[05 Sep 2003|09:02am] Dear Laurie I’m writing a letter to give you before I leave. In the mean time, don’t forget me too fast, I’m just a few miles away. Reading, writing, packing… and missing you already. post comment

[05 Sep 2003|08:57am] Dear Sam What can I say but I’m sorry for being me. I know I’ve been unfair, but at the least, understand that I love you so much. I am not in love with you, and I won’t pretend that I am, I’m not even sure if I can be anymore, at all. But I still care about you a great deal more than nearly all the people in my life (with the obvious exception of Oscar). Please don’t hate me, because I already do quite a bit, I don’t think I can cope with someone else too. I’m sorry. post comment

[05 Sep 2003|08:53am] Dear Harry I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say, you’re the one who should be writing letters for me. Ever since I met you I’ve adored you. Not least because you loved us back and took care of us all, but because nobody can not adore you. Or Jake for that matter. I know I’d be very lucky to ever know someone like you in the future, so I’ll savour these moments. And make sure you keep me on that list for a baby Jake. post comment

[05 Sep 2003|08:46am] Dear Dani Not that I know you all that well, though it is precisely the reason that I will; I’ll miss you. For a while ages ago I was so lovesick for you, and now I’m not. Now I’m not in love, or sick or anything really. I am perfectly fine, and now I am, I miss my own heartbeat as something other than a pulse. All those times I spoke to you and told you how much I hated everything, and you still didn’t leave. But now you are, and I know you don’t want to go, and I only wish I could really say this all to your face. Don’t be sad because of all you’ll be leaving behind, because in your whole life, you will never have a chance to grow as much as you will now. Trust me, I know its hard when you know things have to change, and to a degree it is different in my case because I am choosing to leave, but I’m still going away. The road to Oxford leads onto Birmingham, so thing of me when you want to come home. I’m not at home either, and neither do I want to stay living in Penge for the rest of my life. I know it might seem like everything is falling apart, but it won’t if you don’t let it. You have to hold yourself together, for yourself. I’m not saying this because it hurts me to know you are sad and angry, or because I want to be the one to help you, but I care about you enough to tell you that you have to do this alone, and you have to start liking yourself one day. Even if it’s only just a little, there is a hell of a lot more than a little in you to like, and I am going to miss you more than you can know, if not least because I never took the chance to get to know you as well as I could. And now I wasted that chance, and I could kick myself for it, but that would get us no-where. Just remember what I said about needing me, and don’t forget my number. You know I’d make all the time in the world for you. Now you need to make that time for yourself. People will miss you, that’s more than I can say for me going away. But I hope you know, I’ll miss you too. post comment

[25 Jun 2003|05:50pm] Dear Ella Regardless of the ambiguous situation of whether or not you kissed Sam, again... I would just like to inform you that I am entirely devoid of pity when it comes down to your now pathetic sniveling apologies. Take this as a Goodbye. I do not intend to discuss the matter further with you, or indeed talk to you ever again. You take up far more time in my life than you will ever be worth. And no, I want to keep the book. I am too angry risk going near you and not mutilating your already unfortunately blessed features. 2 comments|post comment

[13 Jun 2003|02:03pm] Dear Ben When I sent you the link yesterday for these letters, I honestly didn’t think you would react in that way. I hope I didn’t upset you too much, because I want you to know that since I’ve known you better, I have ever appreciated the moment of insanity that started our friendship adrift. I am glad I wrote you that first letter, and even more so that you replied. I hope I didn’t upset you yesterday, and I hope your eyes are ok… remember, it is better to be one eyed than no eyed. Please don’t be mad at me, I hope you are well. post comment

[12 Jun 2003|08:23pm] Dear Sian Sarah rang me the other day, and for a while we talked about you. You know it’s been nearly a year since I saw you last, and even that seems like nothing. I didn’t talk to you for over a year after my 16 birthday, after the talk we had in Camden where you informed me I was fucked up, and not worth your time. That day was also my birthday, two days after my grandfather had died, and I had the flu. Ten out of ten for honesty, but quite frankly, that evening I had never felt so angry before in my whole life. I cried more than I ever had before, and I hated you. I must have written about a hundred letters to you, all unfinished, all unsent, all full of thoughts and words and desires I wish never to feel again. When I first became friends with you, I ignored all the warnings from my mother. I thought you were a nice person, and I was willing to let you prove that. Even after Charlotte left you and Sam warned me, I didn’t think anything of it. Even after I started to cut myself and slipped further and further into a lull of self loathing, I didn’t attribute any of it to you. But maybe I should have, in some way, I want you to know that you never ever helped, even when I begged you in tears just to hold me because I was dying inside, you never tried for me. Annie tried, even just a little. That night, New Year 2001, when you had the party at your house, that was undoubtedly one of the most miserable nights I have spent in my whole life. I desperately needed someone, I had lost two friends that year, I had lost all my faith and my life was falling apart. And you knew, and you wanted to fuck Jethero, and you didn’t care if I wasn’t there anymore, you didn’t care that I was slowly falling apart and all I needed was you to let me know that I mattered, pathetic as I was, all I needed to know was I mattered to you in some small way. I trusted you with my life, and you didn’t even value that. Twenty days later I stopped speaking to you. And that was hard, but my mother told me she loved me and didn’t want to watch me die. After that I had so few friends, because they hated me for hating you. But in the end I suppose it doesn’t really matter. I’ve seen you a few times, and I can honestly say that I do not miss you. For four years I was willing to bleed myself dry for you, I was willing to walk on my knees and live in your shadow. But I’ve realised I don’t want to. I’m sorry things had to end this way, but some things were never meant to be, and maybe this is one of them. You were a good friend for a while, it’s just a shame you forgot who you were. post comment

[11 Jun 2003|10:24am] Dear Mr Merrony You were the first teacher I ever had that made me fall in love with a subject. I believe that had I not had you for History when I was 14, I would not have chosen it for GCSE, or for A-level, and now for my degree. You gave us a chance to put history into context with our lives and brought it to life in a manner in which I did not believe possible. Through you we understood racism in America, the trials of the suffragettes and the harrowing experiences face by those forced to sacrifice their lives in the trenches. I will never forget the lesson you told us you had once covered yourself in flour to appear whiter because you were being picked on for the colour of your kin… that lesson taught us tolerance, and I truly believe with all my heart that the girls who were along side me and listened to that story with me will never forget. The day you told us you were leaving I felt like crying. I didn’t want to learn about the past without you to bring it to life for us. You were single-handedly responsible for a massive increase in the applicants for the GCSE history course in 1999, and for that I know the department will always be grateful. I could also never forget the day when you told Paula and I that the bottom half of your baby looked like you…. You meant the face, but she thought you meant something else. Mr Sen (the small amusing man) was the one who originally decided the name Steve suited her, and I have called her that since, though admittedly I sometimes forget why. And I sometimes forget the impact that those who teach me can have on my life, such as you did. I hope you are enjoying teaching wherever you are. I hope you one day know that every time I see the ad on TV about teachers you will never forget, I think of you. You inspired me to learn, and that is a thirst I don’t believe shall ever be quenched. Thank you. post comment

[10 Jun 2003|06:16pm] Dear mother Sometimes I dream that we hate each other, and that you have never loved me as much as I love you. I once had a dream in which you told me you had never loved me and never would, simply because I was not your little girl anymore, that I had changed. I woke up the next morning and I was so, so scared. Scared that I had lost everything I had built with you, all the trust we have salvaged. I was a horrible teenager, I know that now. I was so angry with you for no good reason. Maybe it’s because of everything that happened with dad and the divorce. I felt like you took away the only thing that ever mattered to me, my family. And worst of all, you hurt Daddy so much that I believed I would never be able to forgive you. I have done some terrible things… I once set fire to a picture of you because I was so angry, and I broke a lamp after an argument with you. I wanted to throw it at you, but you never came upstairs to see if I was ok or to talk to me, so I threw it at the wall. I remember all the times you tidied my room and I got so angry… it was only because I believed you had gone through my things, and I felt for so long I couldn’t trust you… and I suppose you couldn’t trust me either. When I tried to kill myself last Easter, and you came all the way to France to visit me in hospital, that’s when I knew you really did love me. You seemed so tired, and desperate and fragile… about so as I felt. I knew then I had let you down… not because I wasn’t as clever as guy, or because I wasn’t as beautiful as all the other girls, but because I was blind to the fact that you loved me no matter what, that you only mean me to be happy. I wrote that horrible letter to you when I came home, where I blamed you… and I want you to know that just wasn’t true. I was so angry and scared, that I didn’t think straight. The truth is, I have been addicted to you since I knew what it was to be loved. All I ever wanted was for you to be proud of me, to love me, to look at me and knew you had created something beautiful. And for so long, I never felt that way, through no fault of your own. We have argued a lot, and now I am an adult, I wish I could take back so many of those evil things I said… when I told you I hated you and wished you dead… I think I knew deep down I didn’t mean it. You didn’t want me to be friends with Sian because she was a horrible person… and you didn’t want to see me hurt. But I made you watch me fall apart, all the while I ignored all the advice you gave me, I screwed myself up, and eventually I felt like I had nothing to live for, when with a mother like you, I had everything to live for. I felt like you wanted me to be you. You wanted me to do all the things you never had the chance to, because you believed you failed. I thought I was so much better than you, and you weren’t worth it anymore, but I know I’m not. You are my mother and I love you more than words could ever express. You once told me you loved me. And those words, and that day, are something I will never forget. In the recent months we have got along better than ever before. I am glad you re-married because I can see you are happy with Neil, and before I saw you so happy, I never realized how sad you were before, and how hard it must have been for you to know you tore us all apart. But I want you to know I don’t blame you one bit. You did what you needed to live your life like you wanted to, and I think now I may have realized what I need to do to live mine. I have learnt more from you than I could ever learn in school, and I will always remember to always set the timer when cooking, and to never waste the talents I am given. Because you never did, and even though you’ll probably never know how much I love you, I want you to know I am proud of you. And I always will be. Happy Birthday mummy. I hope you have the best day of your life. post comment

[09 Jun 2003|05:55pm] Dear Roxie Though I’m still missing you it gets a little easier each day. I saw a little girl today who looked just like you did then you were a kid. And a part of me remembered everything that we were, and everything that you could have been had only you given yourself a chance to glow. There were all the times I told myself I hated you, and I could do better, and people were never perfect, but now I see… we can all be perfect, if only the people around us give us a chance to be so. Listening to Beth Orton and counting the stars… every moment I spend I wonder if I could have told you I loved you just one last time. Told you that you never let me down, that I loved the way you laughed and you made the best brownies ever. And I’m still waiting for someone to tell me it was all a lie, and that you’ll come home tomorrow. Because it doesn’t seem fair that you were taken away so soon, before you even had chance to make someone the most important person in your life, just like you were to me for so long. All I keep thinking is that last day I saw you, when I told you I never wanted to see you again, because you were making me sad. That was a lie, and now I’d give anything to see you again, even if it’s just to say goodbye. I feel so faithless, like I have let you down. I feel like… I don’t even know. Like, I am falling apart. I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I want you home, and you are so far away. I’m sorry I let you down, and now I don’t have the chance to tell you all the words that I now wish I could. And even though I never will, I hope you know I love you and I’ll never forget you. No brownie will ever taste the same again. post comment

[08 Jun 2003|08:29pm] Dear Elliot I wonder how you are now that you have moved away, though it’s only to Wales… I suppose it seems so much longer. For the longest while I thought a million miles would not take this pain away… but now I realise, it was not you, it was me all along. Now you have gone away, I keep thinking of all the time we spent together before that night when it rained so hard that I felt I was drowning. Every time it rains now I think of you, over a 100 miles away, living another life with another girlfriend, and it hurts to know I will never understand how you are feeling, or why you were dying inside the whole time I believed I knew you. I want you to know something, only when you were so near, I could never find the words to explain the feeling. When I heard you were in hospital, bleeding from the pain, I knew that I did still care, no matter what I told myself. Hearing from Eviee, about how bad you were, that you were being airlifted away, that I would never see you again… though I said I never wanted to, I wish I could have even said that I do forgive you. I was so angry at you that the last time I saw you; I could never find the words. And now, I want to know how your life is doing. How are your brothers? And Eviee? How is she? I know you must miss Eddie, but I suppose his death is merely a tally on our collective chart of losses to drug abuse. I know you argued and you told me you hated him, but I don’t believe that, and I know you don’t feel it. And when I cried, I cried for you, because all I ever wanted was for you to know that someone loved you. The first time you touched me it hurt. The first bruise was the worst because I had never felt so hurt… because I trusted you so much. I’m not trying to punish you here, but I want you to know why I was so angry at you for so long and why I was scared of any man I met for months after I broke up with you. I am ok now, though a little lonely, because through no fault but my own, I keep messing up the friendships that mean the most to me. Maybe we all have a little more to learn about each other. All in all, I wish you well… I hope you are safe. And that’s, well. That’s it. post comment

[07 Jun 2003|10:37pm] Dear Ella I think I knew about you and Sam before I was even told. The whole time I was in Spain I knew I was missing something… and who can blame you. I was head over heels, and we were then so much alike that it was only so long before you fell into the same trap. We will never be friends again, and I know that now. I wanted to be because I missed you. Even though we barely knew each other, I still trusted you, and I suppose that’s why it hurt me so much. But I have no doubt that you were hurting too, and I wish I could have taken some of it away, but I knew there was nothing I could do. I hope you are well now, I see you nearly everyday in school, and still I feel like I have never met you sometimes. I suppose that’s why I was so reluctant to give you your Marilyn Manson book back, because it gave a connection between you and I, tangible and on my terms. It gave me a chance to speak to you, outside of congratulating you on the success of your life. Though admittedly sometimes I am sad because you have done so well, a supposed remnant of jealously, all I want you to do is be happy, with John, or whoever you choose to love. I am still angry, but more with myself than I could ever be with anyone else. I keep thinking that there is something I could have done; I wish I could have said something different, changed something. But now there is nothing that can be done, and I admit I am just as responsible as you or Sam. I know I should forget this feeling, but I can’t… part of a punishment I wish myself to suffer for letting you down, for letting this happen. An explanation for the way that I’m feeling, in which you are the scape goat. But I promise in future I will try to forget, for me as much as for you. post comment

[31 Jan 2003|06:45pm] Dear Guy I’ve thought a lot of horrible things about you over the years. Mainly because I was insanely jealous because you were given the chance to go to a private school and I was sent to mine… £30 pounds a year. But now you’ve left home, I’ve realised that I do actually care a lot more than I would ever admit. When you left to go and live with dad, I thought I wouldn’t miss you. We had never been very close… You were always too good for me. And I think a part of me knew that I could never be as intelligent as you, and I should never compete, because it would destroy anything we had left. I wish I could sit down with you now, and promise you that I never meant all those horrible things I said about you. And I wish that you had lived with us, and now I know you were hurting just as much as I was; only I was too blind to see it. I think we all were. I remember the night on holiday in Spain where you came into my room and cried to me. That was the night that I realised who you were to me, and that you were my brother and I would love you no matter what. You old me all sorts of things that I will never forget, and from that day I knew I could never not care about, just because you were smarter than me, it never mean that you were any less scared, and I realise that now. When you left for university, I thought I wouldn’t notice, but I did. There was no-one to tease me anymore, no-one to argue with, there seemed to be nothing left. I was slightly jaded for a while because I felt like you would walk back into our lives whenever you wanted because you knew mom would never stop loving you, but after Easter, I knew that you understood exactly how I felt when Mother and father divorced, and I knew you had been hurting just us much, if not more and more… until you couldn’t cope with it anymore, couldn’t believe it, couldn’t see. It all reminds me of some quote I once read. Something to do with always blaming our parents for making mistakes but never forgiving them. Maybe it because, they bring you into this world and for the first few years, they build your entire life. They are everything, they dress you, feed you, cloth you, mould you... and then, when they screw up, its all so hard to understand. Cause for those few years, they are god. They are the be all and end all, and they seem so infallible... but then they slip up and you see they cry, and hurt, and bleed... and then you realise. It was all one great big lie. You told me in France about Aunt Zinnia and Charlie and Nick… how they always argue, but need each other. And I know now that you are right, you can’t choose your family, but now I think that even if I could, I would have chosen you all the same. I want you to know that you have done enough, and that you have proved yourself. I admire you so much for all that you have done, and I’m no longer jealous, I am just so proud of you it aches inside. And in ten years time when we are all grown up, I know I will love you all the same, if not more. post comment

[27 Sep 2002|06:22pm] Dear Jacob I think I understand you more than I did before… and now I’m sorry I never really knew you. I guess before it was a chance to save Rue the pain of loosing another friend, and now, I just wish I had the chance to help you get away from the pain I know your going through. I remember one time when Rue came to ask my advice, about ‘this friend’, this friend was so sad, and I knew Rue was worried. Rue came to me and said, ‘do you think he’ll be ok?’ what did I say? I said ‘I don’t know’… cause I never really did know, but that was hard, to know I didn’t know the answer to what I was being asked, to know I didn’t understand you, to know I probably never would. But what I did know, was that you hurt… and I suppose that’s about all I ever really knew of you, the hurt, because maybe that’s the only part of yourself you ever really believed in. I never had a chance to know you, and I never understood you… but I think maybe I do now… I think maybe I know how lonely you were, because I know someone just like you, someone who hurts just as much, someone who I love. Now I wish I had really known you and who you were, maybe now I have a second chance to understand, or just try to… to understand you, to understand him, maybe to try and understand myself again. All I’ll ever really know is that you were more than I could have ever imagined you were. I hope this time I don’t stuff up the chance to understand, or to try to. Cause I couldn’t loose this person the way everyone lost you… almost as though you slipped away. I know how badly your parents want you home, and Rue, how much it would change. And I guess, I want you home as well. post comment

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