#dear you

[ihavetheblues96]

Dear C.E,

I love you. I wanted us to work. I wanted my initials to become C.E as well. I’m sorry for my part in this. You were not perfect and had faults, but so do I. I hope you think of me. I hope you love me too. I hope one day we can forgive each other because I miss my best friend. I will pray for you even if you don’t believe it helps. The pain and anger I feel will go away but my love will never fade. I hope that you find happiness. I hope you can see you are special. I just wanted to let you know you’re not a bad person. You will never be alone even if you feel like it. I’m sorry for making you feel alone and for my part in hurting you. We have two different hurts but we both lost each other. I hope you feel this loss like I do, so I know you did love me. That’s selfish I know but that’s who I am. All I am I think. I love our life together and i love our love. Maybe one day this will find you and you’ll know it’s for you. You will grow into a great man one day and my heart will always break when you’re with someone new, but I will always want you to be happy. You taught me a lot and I hope I did the same. Thank you for your love. Thank you for our children. Maybe one day when we aren’t so broken we can make things work. I wanted to grow with you, to age with you and make mess in our kids homes with you lol. I never wanted us to stop laughing. I never wanted to be apart but I was selfish in sharing my thoughts. I was selfish with my actions and so were you. You were greedy for more of me but I was scared of giving you the rest of me just to have you continue to hurt me. I couldn’t give you everything because I felt I would have nothing left. I was selfish you’re right and I’m sorry. I hope we can be better than we are and I hope we can make things work. I hope you know I love your laugh, heart, mind and soul. Toes and elbows. You will always be my always and forever. I’m saying goodbye so you can know your worth and so I can find mine. I hope one day we will laugh together again. I hope one day our heart will heal. I want you to be happy even if it hurts me. I will be the villain in your story but you will always be the one who made me love. I prey you’re always safe and that one day you find what you deserve. I will always be here for you. I wish i could fit everything in here but I can’t. I hope one day you find this cause I’m too scared to show you. I love you bb.

-sincerely, Dollface

[yourlovelyspace]

So everything goes fine 💝

[hyperionnebulae]

Dear you,

Selfishness is so poorly defined a word that it has become just its connotation. The implication of selfishness is that it is wrong to think about yourself as the most important person in the world. The issue with this is two-fold: first, you are objectively the most important in your own world because without you, your world literally does not exist, and second, that that is something that can be morally wrong. That's not saying that you cannot do things that are indeed morally wrong in order to care for yourself or that you cannot confuse importance with superiority.

But you have never seen yourself as better than anyone else. You have never seen yourself as more worthy of existing than anyone else. In fact, you often act like you don't see yourself at all. Maybe it's time you did. Maybe it's time you were just a little selfish.

If you need an excuse, try thinking that it's what people who care for you deeply would want. You are important in their worlds, so if not for yourself then try for them.

Love, Me

[rustbeltjessie]

Summer of Freckles & Fireflies. The summer when you cried at every sunset. The summer when you stayed up all night, every night. Thunderstorm Summer. Summer that was so hot it melted the soldering on the stained glass lamp. Summer of Secret Gardens & Skinned Knees. Summer of Mosquito Bites & Dark Truths. Carl Sandburg Summer, when the stars drew fish with fire-tails & rabbits with fire-ears on the night sky. Summer of Long Drives. Summer of Chicory on the Roadsides. Summer of Motel Rooms & Highway Signs. The summer you ran away with the circus. Summer of Tall Ships, when you played at being a pirate. Theater Camp Summer. Northwoods Summer. Cicada Summer.

—Jessie Lynn McMains, from Reckless Chants #28.09: some summers

[estehmanistanpagula]

Kepada kamu, yang sedang kutitipkan hatiku.

Jika ingin pergi, mohon taruh pada tempatnya kembali hati-hati.

Sebab meski kokoh, ia sangat mudah rapuh.

Depok, 10 Februari 2024

11:33

[dollcorrupted]

Want to be laying in my owner's lap with my back against his chest so he can squeeze my boobs and play with my pussy while we snuggle, also want to be laying bend over my owner's lap so he can slap and fingerfuck me.

Choices 😵‍💫💕

[gorimbaudandgojohnnygo]

Little Postscript for Stefan

and sweetheart if i sent you half the letters i’m much too cool to write this scene would burst like rockets sparklers popcorn atomic bombs and valves and cuckoo clocks

so then i guess i maybe wont

—Diane Di Prima, from Earthsong: Poems 1957-1959 (Poets Press, 1968)

[yourlovelyspace]

Even if it's just holding hands 💝

[passingthoughtsofyou]

Sunday July 28th 2024 1:10pm

Most people refer to their current partners as the love of their life. I, however, cannot do that.

You may have been my first relationship, and we may have not gotten any further than a hug and holding hands. But, if one thing has remained true, is that you were, are, and have been the love of my life.

Not one moment since the first moment of love between us, has my love lacked or faltered.

I think that's what makes this harder - my love for you has always remained, but you, have not.

From a child to an adult 15-26, it's been you. I'll forever dream of our future. If you showed up to my wedding day to someone else, I don't think I could follow through with it. That's how true my feelings are for you.

What a shame, that we got a second chance at us, and it fell apart - I still wish I knew why.

[hyperionnebulae]

Dear 16 year old me,

I know things are hard right now. I know it feels like so much of the world doesn't want you. I know some days all your energy goes into surviving. And, I know the last kind of person you want to take advice from is an adult twice your age.

But I know you. I was you. I am you. So hear me out.

You are strong, smart, and kind. The world is full of so many people you haven't met yet that are going to love that about you. You even have some people in your life that already do.

I remember having a hard time believing anything good about myself, when I was you. Which, to be clear, isn't something we are uniquely at fault for. Yes, we did hurt a lot and will continue to hurt a lot, probably for as long as we live, but that isn't all we are or will be. I think we both know we aren't anything close to that easy to understand.

And that's not a bad thing. We are not a bad thing. We are so far from a bad thing. We might even be an incredibly good thing, even for and towards our self, in my lived future experience.

Today is our birthday which might not feel like a victory for you right now. It might feel like just another participation medal for remembering to breathe but I want you to know that a future version of you has saved every one of those ribbons no matter the color or copy. They will never be meaningless to me because you aren't meaningless to me.

Maybe life is internally a team relay where you were the best and only choice to run that lap. Maybe it was a last minute change in rotation, a fluke that you weren't even minority prepared for. And yet, you only fully collapsed after you handed off the baton. You did everything exactly as you needed to do, you were exactly where you needed to be, and you did your part. We are still running because of you.

So even if this isn't a happy birthday for you, it will have been a good day for us to be born and to survive and thrive as long as we keep showing up to breathe.

Thank you for being yourself and happy birthday to us! I love you so much.

32 year old me

Ps. Yep, we get to just wear elf ears whenever we want now. For all the hassle, being an adult could definitely be worse. ✌

[env0]

Dear You…

Dear FabledAnarchy,

To share words with you is a delight. Your insight. Your light. Your struggled might. You are truly quite the sight. Knowing you has been a gift. I am infatuated and adoring. And ever imploring to learn more.

I wish you all the best in your pursuits. You are both noble and great in your virtues and passions and pleasures. I wish i could do more to assist you on your way, but I do what I can when and how.

I am dumbfounded daily that you choose to keep speaking with me when you are so lovely and smart. I thank you for it. I could only wish to be so fortunate to have someone close to your quality in my daily life offline.

You deserve the world and all fruit its bears.

[kohicat]

Dear you,

Thank you for giving me happy stories to write.

Before you came into my life, majority of the things I would write here are about my worries. I would usually come here just to vent out whatever I felt and most of the time it would be about something sad or negative. I reached a point where I actually disliked writing here because I felt like every time I did, it would be about something sad. I felt like I was not capable of writing happy stories.

But here I am looking back at these letters I’ve written to you in the past 12 months and realizing that I can write about being happy too. Just like how you showed me that I am capable of loving and being loved, you also showed me that I can write happy stories.

You’re a big ball of sunshine that lights up my life. I can never put into words how grateful am to have you in my life.

영원히 사랑해요!

Yours,

C

[rustbeltjessie]

—salted snow turned slush on the streets of Kenosha —telephone calls from Chicago, Blue Ridge Summit; later, Istanbul, NYC —rum in the railyard, the —hats (see also: scally, fedora, pork pie) —Sinatra, Frank —Presley, Elvis —Costello, Elvis —Waits, Tom —Terricloth, Jack —marimba, bone (I am always using that phrase)

Dear You. When you reach my age, which seems impossibly far away these days (and is in truth both much farther away and much sooner than you think), you'll wonder why you're still writing these things. You thought once you could be done with it, but it is impossible because that year (this year, still, for you) is so full. So impossibly full.

—Bride of Frankenstein (see also: "I hope her bones are firm!") —boys in your bed; boys in vans and motel rooms —door number 30 —trains over bridges, tunnels through mountains, rain and rivers —diners where the fries are too salty and the coffee tastes of blood —Nighthawks (at the...) —Nighthawks (painting by Edward Hopper)

Dear You. By god it's too much. You once thought you could be done with this year but at other times you're afraid that by writing it so often, it will disappear. Like each memory is a coin and by putting it down on paper, you are spending it. But each coin returns to your pocket, eventually. Maybe a little dull, a little tarnished, but still valid currency. And then the coins, the memories, that you'd forgotten! So many, like they're newly minted.

—a half-stolen switchblade —a hostel on Bank Street —M. riding shotgun, rolling cigarettes, while that road marimba... —Baltimore's rats and broken roses —Cincinnati cicadas —Ohio fireflies —"In Ohio On Some Steps" (the trumpet vines, the heat and heartache) —Milwaukee girls —a red dress

Dear You. You will think, sometimes, that part of you is trapped in that year. Like the year is a late-night diner with no visible exit, and you are one of the lonesome souls sitting under the yellow globes of light, staring into your coffee, and all now-you can do is stand on the street outside, looking in, hoping for some way to enter just like past-you wishes they could exit (though they're not making much of an attempt). And maybe that's partly true. (For this was the year of learning that so much impossible stuff was at least partly true.) But the you-outside will have to go on, spending these ever-replenishing memory coins. Writing these never-ending lists. They are the currency, and the index, of your becoming.

—Jessie Lynn McMains (from an unfinished essay-poem hybrid thing inspired by a prompt that suggested to write your own 'letters to a young poet,' so I started writing one to my younger self circa 2004, because everything I write is about that year; written summer 2023)

[estehmanistanpagula]

Tuhan, sederhana saja pintaku.

Jaga ia selalu.

Depok, 17 Januari 2024

23:07