To the soul that left me lost,

 

I've been writing to you for quite some time,

but never got around to actually sending a letter.

 

Despite piles of words left scattered,

those letters still keep reaching,

clawing

out of the pages I've restrained them to.

And out of the 70 odd journals I have written

either to myself,

to love,

or to doubt,

you have always held the majority of them hostage.

 

But this one’s different.

Rather than breaking my caps lock,

murdering each letter to you

with long lacerations across the pages,

inked blood spilling out of the lines,

I’ve written a thank you letter.

To find peace again.

Finally.

 

Thank you for showing me what true fear is.

For showing me how late I can stay up at night,

tossing and turning,

and still somehow

function.

For showing me how much acid my stomach can churn

without

obtaining ulcers.

For showing me how much I can stand

and where my limits break.

 

Thank you for showing me true betrayal.

For making my self worth feel non-existent.

The day it happened,

anxiety built like a graveyard.

Slowly but over time,

each body laid down was a hope I had for the future,

each tombstone in the ground

was a shot of pain that shook my core.

 

And in my mind, I’d formulated a plot.

Something devised from pain,

Of a relentless want to kick and scream.

Something,

anything,

to make you feel the pain I felt

when I found out.

 

But instead, the plan unraveled.

Rather than fighting,

I cried,

unwinding with my plot about

what I did wrong.

What I did

to make you want her instead.

I know exactly where we sat when you told me.

I pass by it every day.

 

Thank you for showing me that I am capable of blaming myself for something I didn’t do.

For showing me my weaknesses.

 

Thank you for standing me up,

For refusing to ask me to prom,

For pushing things I wasn’t comfortable with,

For never bringing me flowers,

Or even thinking about it.

 

Now that I can look clearly at the cage I had locked myself in,

where I willingly saw the key but denied its existence,

I realize I didn’t need any of those things.

I didn’t need you.

 

Resurrecting those hopes out of their graves,

I travel alone, but without loneliness.

I pick my own flowers.

 

Finally finding peace and forever released,

Kate