Dear God (May 30th, 2005)

God,
I'm so ready to grow up, but I'm scared. I want to get married, but I'm scared of divorce. I want to have children, but I'm scared that they'll hate me. I'm ready for love, but I'm scared of it at the same time.
All I want is someone who will love me for me and not care that I'm not an A++ student, or a famous author. They'll want to spend their life with me. Help me!! In Jesus name, Amen.

Anything else want to go wrong?

Dear Life,
Anything else you want to throw at me while I'm already so far down I am seeing the underside of China? I mean seriously? How much shit can you possibly have to keep piling it on? Did you eat a crap ton of fiber or something?!

Found out today that the librarian of my High School, Mrs. O'Connor, passed away. Her funeral is tomorrow. This woman did so much for me and I never got a chance to thank her for any of it. Not only that, but I found her on facebook. Right after I found her, that's when Facebook decides to suggest her as a friend.

The lead singer of one of my favorite bands (Kagrra,) passed away.

I made a jar of homemade jam/preserves the other day. The bar on the inside of the fridge door broke and my jar fell to the floor, breaking and all of my jam was destroyed.

Kohl's has been jerking me around and I may have to quit because they are refusing to work with my schedule availability, even though we've been over it so many times.

We are going to have to move because we didn't renew the lease in time (apparently).

And the icing on the proverbial cake: My pearl broke off of my engagement ring.

You know, I understand that there are going to be shitty moments every now and then, but it seems that every time something good happens I get buried under a ton of shit.

Good things that happened recently:
I made homemade jam and it was good! Shocking, considering it was my first time cooking it.

My mom and her husband bought me a wedding present. A van. Yes, they gave me a vehicle. One so I can expand my horizons and go to work and school and all that good stuff.

I'm finally going to get married. I had the money to put down on a dress and get a ring.

I was content with work. Not happy, but content. I'm good with content.

I had been flirting with this really cute girl at Barnes & Noble.

---EDIT---
Found out that Donnie's grandmother's dog, Pookie, was hit by a car and killed on Sunday.

I need to grow some proverbial balls.

Dear _____,

Once I would've tried to move Heaven and Earth to keep this friendship going. Once I would've given my life to keep yours going. It is pretty sad that now I could care less if this friendship works or fails, I could care less about your pathetic problems.

Reasons, I should give reasons shouldn't I? Since you will demand to know what the fuck my problem is. So I'll give you reasons and You'll argue them, but in the end, you know I am right and I am glad that we had this fight so that I know who you really are.

I could've forgiven you the fight we had. I could've forgiven the harsh words you said, saying I never gave a fuck when in reality it was you who never gave a fuck about me. I could've forgiven you, it would've taken time, but I could've done it.

But the unforgiveable thing was when I needed you most and you weren't there. You haven't even apologized for not being there. Let me fill you in, posting a blog 6 lines long announcing to the world that the person who probably meant the most to me died does not equal a personal message saying "I'm sorry for your loss". It can't equal a personal message or a hug or SOMETHING. It is kind of pathetic that my sorrow was all put into 6 short lines on a blog on MySpace. Oh, but I mustn't forget that there were 2 other short lines in a second blog all about you. Wow, 8 lines total. What a precious gift to me, how can I ever repay you?

And then when we finally do talk, you have the audacity to ask me what I've been up to. Hmm, let's think about this for just a moment. I just buried my grandfather and I'm so depressed I'm spending most of my time in bed with the blankets covering my head. And you want to know what I've been up to? Then you tell me that you did too send me condolences by writing the blog. I don't even know what to say to that.

If you had just lost your grandfather and I just ignored you for the entire time that you needed me and posted a blog about it that was 6 lines long you would be pretty pissed. You expect me to be there for you no matter what, you expect me to hold you when you cry, to be there no matter how small the drama. I can't do that anymore. I can't be there for you every five minutes when you can't be there for me at all.

And your excuse for not being there? "I am sorry that I was not there for you.. but like I told ___ I am not the best person to help you deal with that."

You are selfish, immature, childish and two-faced. I know it sounds really harsh, but I'm tired of the bullshit.

You claim to have grown up to fast, that you never had a childhood, but you act like a two year old all the time. I'm not going to say that I act like an adult all the time, because I don't, but even my own mother agrees that I have always acted older than my actual age. I didn't have a childhood and grew up to fast. Do you know what it is like to raise children? I do. I helped raise 4 of them. Do you know what it is like to have to take care of your mother because she is too sick to take care of you? I do. Do you know what it is like work your ass off doing little odd-jobs and then giving all of your money to your parents because what you make is just enough to pay a bill? I do. Have you ever paid a bill? I have.

Your mother pays for everything. You get new clothes and new bags and new shoes. Your mother pays the bills and feeds you. My step-father, as I got older, refused to purchase new clothes for us or new shoes. If we wanted some of the basic necessities we had to buy them ourselves. Did you know that my sophomore and junior year of high school I bought my school supplies with money I saved up from my birthday money? Have you ever had to do that? When you have done all of the things I have just listed then you will know what it is like to be an adult and can justly say that you are grown up.

You are childish because you never try to fix your own problems. Adults try to fix their problems not shove them on others and expect them to fix it. You lash out at the people that try to help you and cling to those who hurt you.

You are immature because you brag about how mature you are all the time. Maturity is not garnering praise for your maturity. You constantly cry to anyone who will listen, the world knows when you have a problem because all you do is complain about it. Maturity is leaning on a few friends who help you stand up when you feel weak, not falling to the floor and expecting everyone to lift you. Maturity is giving everything you have, even when you have little to give, and NOT expecting everyone to appreciate what you've done.

You are selfish because all you care about is you and your problems. You expect everyone to be there for you, but you aren't there when someone needs you. You expect everyone to listen to your pathetic problems, but you can't be bothered to listen to someone else's. You are so wrapped up in your own world that you don't have the time to see anyone else's problems but your own.

You are two-faced because you talk about your "best friend" behind her back ALL the time. Then you say that you two fight like a married couple. You don't even know what marriage is. You haven't even seen enough of your parent's marriage to know what marriage is! Your parents were divorced when you were really little. Donnie and I fight like a married couple. Because we are practically married as is. My friend Sarah W. and her husband fight like a married couple. You and _______ do NOT fight like a married couple. Married couples don't go behind their spouses backs and insinuate that they are prostitues, or call them cunts, or blame them for car accidents, or treat each other like shit. That isn't how marriage works.

You don't know anything about life and you will never grow up.

In a way I'm glad that all of this has happened. The past two weeks have really shown me your true colors and made me realize just how tired of the bullshit I really am.

I do still love you. I think I love the memories of you more than anything. I just don't think I can work this friendship out with you. Not unless you suddenly grow up. Maybe getting knocked on your ass will help, I don't know. Please refrain from writing me about anything anymore, because if you can't be there for me, I'm afraid I can't be there for you.

Sincerely,
Sarai

Dear ________,

Dear ________,
I hate you. My soul and heart are filled to the brim with venom and bile that YOU created. You are a monster, a pathetic waste of flesh in this universe.

I can't believe I loved you once. I can't believe I looked up to you. I LOVED You! To think that I could love a creep like you. Well, I guess it is possible, I mean I did date a child molester. But you are the worse because at least he admitted to what he was accused of. You are the worst of reprobates, the king of filth, a true servant of your "God", Satan. For no "Christian" would love and worship Lucifer as tenderly as you have. Did you let him fuck you too? Or are you saving yourself for when you go to Hell?

You are a hypocrite, a liar, a rapist, an abuser, a self-righteous asshole and worse. They don't get lower than you.

You purposefully put your child in danger, abuse your step-children, rape your wife and then go to church and profess the love of God. You make me sick. I want to throw up whenever you are near. Your false kindness is enough to make even Satan gag. Your lies and deeds are what they use to teach new demons in Hell. You are a shining example of all the worst in Christianity. I hate how I can't even stand to hear your name spoken.

If _____ is right, and God sent you to us, then God is a cruel bastard. Because no one, NO ONE, deserves to be put through your Hell. Not even the worst murderer on Death Row deserves you.

I hate how you've turned ________ against us and turned her into a brainwashed brat. You are SO disgusting to turn a child against a mother who did everything in her power to take care of her.

I can't understand why she ever let you into our lives. You make me feel worthless and stupid, guilty for being a woman and DISGUSTED with my own belief system because YOU taught it to me!

You should listen to a song called "I Get It" by Chevelle. It reminds me of you and _____. You think you are so good, so Godly, but ______ is Godlier than you. Dahmer at his WORST was Godlier than you and he was raping, murdering and eating boys! I shouldn't be surprised though. How is sex with _____? I hope you choke while you are swallowing his sperm. I hope you are infected with a million incurable diseases and die a horrific death.

You know, I've had offers to have you killed? People beg with me to let them make you disappear. And, if it wouldn't hurt ______ (because she still loves you, though not even God knows why) and _______, I would let them. I would gleefully watch your pathetic life extinguished. Oh, I'm sorry, am I using too many big words?

Fuck you, fuck what you stand for and all your bullshit.

I hope your colon gets punctured while _______ fucks you and you die from internal bleeding.

Sarai

My dear Cadillac,

My dear Cadillac,
I'm afraid our story has come to an end. We didn't know each other long, though I still think about you. I still wish I could've saved you.
We came out on the rougher edge of things. Including in court.
I won't say I'd take it all back, because, truth be told, I wouldn't. Everything that has happened has shaped a part of my character. I wouldn't be me without all the awfulness that has come with the accident.
However, it IS time to let you go. It is time to let the past go. It is done now. It is over. I will always miss you.
Love,
Sarai.

A note to myself.

I am looking back over the pages of my life's story. Some things I will pass over, pretend they aren't there. Some I will read and re-read lovingly, the pages worn with care. Others I will pause to quietly cry over; things I lost, things I said, people I miss.
The thing that you have to remember, when you re-read your life's story, is that as long as you have survived the bad times and rejoiced in the good, you have done well. It won't matter how many people read it, how many people "like" it, how much praise you have earned. What matters is that you were your own person, you survived what you had to and you have become someone you like, someone you admire. You have loved, more than you hated. You have given, more than you received. You are who you are and no one can take that from you.

I am proud of you.

To the girl at McDonald's working 3 jobs, in High School, working overtime on her birthday: I don't have anything to spare besides my words (and McD's wouldn't let you accept a gift from me) but you can do it and I am proud of you. Happy birthday, I hope it is better than it was when I came through your line.

Dear Hip,

Dear Hip,
Just because it is raining doesn't mean you need to go crazy and hurt. I'm trying to sleep.
Love,
Me.

Dear Grandpa,

Dear Grandpa,
Happy Birthday. I miss you like crazy and still think of you almost every day. Sometimes I hear your voice in my head and I just start crying because I feel like we didn't have a proper goodbye. I love you and I miss you. I hope we will meet again soon in the next life.
love,
Sarai

Dear Ann Coulter,

Dear Ann Coulter,
Civil rights is not just limited to Black people. Civil rights exists for ANY group being disenfranchised by their government. That's the point of Civil Rights. And I don't agree that these other groups (women, homosexuals and Immigrants) are just whining because they are not getting what they want. And you know what, your ancestors were immigrants. People who were looked down upon. I am part Irish and the Irish couldn't get jobs in this country because they were Irish. You are an idiot if you truly believe that Black people are the only people that have been treated unfairly and disenfranchised in this country.
Sincerely,
Sarai.

To Whom it May Concern,

To whom it may concern,
If you provide insurance to your employees you HAVE to provide for ALL types of healthcare. Not all women who use birth control use it to prevent pregnancies. It is NOT a violation of your religious rights, but it IS a violation of their freedom of choice if you refuse. If you want to be jerks about it, how about paying some taxes so these health items can be obtained some other way without breaking someone?
Thank you for your attention,
Sincerely,
Sarai

Dear Santa,

Dear Santa,
Is it wrong that I feel the way that I do? Is it so wrong that I still feel this way, after years. I've tried to wipe it out with hate and anguish. The anguish remains, but I'm too tired to hate anymore. I'm just sadly angry and angrily sad. Is it fair to feel this way? Should I try to squash it?

Do you know what I want most for Christmas, Santa? I want a family again. I want my grandfather, Memere, Pepere, grandma Bobbi, my dad, I even want Wes and his family back. Just to feel like we were a family again. Just to feel the illusion of love, even for a few moments. Is that wrong? Is it wrong to want even the illusion of it again?

But if Wes wanted to be a father, he should've tried harder. If he wanted to be a part of my life he should've tried. I shouldn't have to go to him to make things work. He should've acted like an adult.

I am my mother's daughter first. I am his daughter second.
I am my brother's sister first. I am his daughter second.
If he couldn't love my mother any longer, couldn't tolerate my brother any longer than he no longer loved or tolerated me. They are a part of me and I am a part of them. I really did love him at one point.

If Carolyn wanted to be my grandmother she should've tried to love my mother, love my brother. She should've tried harder, but I suppose she didn't know how. But that isn't my fault.

I am my mother's daughter first. I am her granddaughter second.
I am my brother's sister first. I am her granddaughter second.
If she can't accept and love them, then she can't accept and love me. And the saddest thing is that I really did love her. Looked up to her. But I can't tolerate her talking shit about my mother. I won't stand for anyone to talk shit about my mother or my brother or my sister.

Mom, Chris and Hannah are almost all I have really. I have several other relatives, but none that I see on a regular basis. And my mother's husband, Mark, is a nice enough man, but he isn't my father. He never will be. He will always be a nice man that my mother is married to. And I'm okay with that. I'm okay with him just being a friend.

I want acceptance for Christmas. I want to believe that Wes actually cared once. Or maybe I don't, because then I'll just blame myself for him not caring any longer.

I'd like to not be so pathetic that I can't sleep because I'm thinking about everything that is wrong. I'd like to not be so hung up on missing people that don't care about me. People who don't even think about me, even though I can't stop thinking about them.

I really just want peace on earth, I guess.

But you aren't any more real than the unicorns and mermaids I claim to believe in. You can't solve my problems anymore than I can. And if there is a God, he has long since stopped listening to me. I suppose this is where I should end this then. What's the point, Santa?

If I say I've been a really good girl this year, will that make any difference?

If I say that I've really tried this year, will that make any difference?

I hate you. I truly do. I hate you for not being real. I hate you for being a childhood principality that can't exist in this world. I hate that this is how everything has worked out.

I am too tired to hate you. I'm too tired to hate anyone, anymore.

Sarai.

A Letter to Stupidity

Dear Stupid/racist people that I am ashamed to call my friends,

It is days like today that make me wonder why I am friends with you. I seriously cannot even begin to comprehend what would make you say the stupid and racist things you say on Facebook. I cannot understand what possesses you when you let yourself practically vomit stupidity all over your page. Did your hands break as you were typing to create that heinous dribble that you call intellect?

Or is it your mind that has taken leave of itself? You write the worst conspiracy theories I could even imagine. Even a child would know that you were preaching trash! You call yourself a Godly Christian, then write some seriously disturbing rhetoric about the President and the United States. I am behind you saying the US sucks. For all intents and purposes it truly does. It is a terrible country, one built on blood and double standards and lies. I do not disagree with that point.

At least place the blame on the correct shoulders! "Get your facts first, and then you can distort them as much as you please." As the wonderful Mark Twain once said. Instead of just allowing whatever inane, insane, ridiculous, stupid and unsupportable dribble come out of your mouth and onto the computer screen, do the world a favor and shut up! Try to learn before you speak! When you present something, be prepared to show proofs as well, because I am tired of seeing this on social networking sites!

We go to these sites to bitch about our bad day at work or to celebrate something good, to share what moves us and what makes us smile. We also come to discuss different politics and religions, but that doesn't mean that as soon as we begin a discussion we start screaming like apes loose in the jungle! We are human beings and should learn to act as such. We are not children, we are adults, so let's act like that! Let's try to be mature every now and then, shall we?

In the meantime, I am going to continue to ignore your absurdity.

Sincerely,
Me.

Postscript: It is hard to write a scathing letter when you are being enveloped by beautiful cello music.

Dear Non-Conformist,

Dear Non-Conformist living in my tiny closet of a soul,
I just want to say that we need to hang out more often, you are losing yourself somewhere amongst the name brands and size 5's. Its a crazy world that wants you to be thin, perfect and beautiful. You have to learn to be those things on your own time, not because you feel the pressure. So, feel free to leave that tiny closet of a soul and venture forth like the beautiful knight that you are, destroying the dragons of people-pleasing.
Sincerely,
Me.

Dear Mr. President,

August 01st, 2012

Dear Mr. President,

It's a funny (as in weird) time right now, don't you think? All this insanity with your upcoming election (I am confident in your abilities as you can see) and the world is all a stage (as Shakespeare once said) set with chessmen. In the end it's kind of like that, a political checkmate with more than a chessboard at stake. Of course chess players don't usually play for keeps.

Mr. President, I am going to be honest, I'm not sure why I am writing you. My previous letter (before I was married I sent you a glittery Paris themed card) had a point. I wanted to tell you how much I supported you. I still support you (and not just because you were the first president I got to vote for). But this wasn't really going to be about that.

We're moving, not just as a country. Moving towards something ill-defined and frightening. I'm afraid, sir. Afraid that we're moving not for the better. We (the collective "we") have grown so lazy, prejudiced, paranoid and irrational. I feel like I'm trapped in the collective body of a rabid dog. I resist, but get pulled in again. It seems insane because it is.

Frankly, Mr. President, I could care less about your religious beliefs. The constitution (last I checked) said nothing about religion. I care that you have morals; compassion, honesty, etc. I don't care if you were born overseas or not (not that I believe you were, but I hear this ALL the time at work) because you were born to American citizens so it wouldn't matter anyway.

What I care about is you visiting the Colorado victims. I care about you paying the same amount of taxes I do. I care about you donating your Nobel Peace prize money. I care about you fighting for equal pay for equal work.

I care about you standing up for GLBTQ rights. I care about those things, Mr. President. I don't care if you worship Buddha or Krishna or Zeus for that matter. I do care if you use your power for good rather than "evil." Be Luke not Vader (well at the beginning Vader, you can be Vader overthrowing the Emperor. Huh, the Emperor could be Romney or big business and you could be Vader throwing them over the railing... Somehow I don't think I'll be getting a job creating your ads any time soon).

I'm sorry I ramble so, Mr. President.

I'm sorry I don't have more money. I want to donate. I want to have a chance to have dinner with you. I want to be more than one voice, but it's very hard being an adult, don't you agree?

I want so many things! I want my freedom. I want my health. I want my liberty and to pursue my happiness. I want to be a part of this so-called "Great Nation."

In truth, I just want to be happy. I want more than what I've been told I should want.

I hope I haven't bored you to tears, sir. I hope you and yours are doing well. I hope you continue the good fight, even if letters from supporters stop coming. Even if it looks bleak. There are people, like me, who can't afford Mr. Romney, sir. Especially those who think he is a good option.

Please beat him. Please continue to be the kind and wonderful human being you are. And please say a prayer (if you believe in that, I don't really anymore) for me.

In all sincerity and with great respect,
Sarai Smith
(formerly, Sarai Lillie)

The Golden Man

Dear ____,

I keep telling myself that I will stop missing you, stop writing you. I tell myself that I never really loved you and you never really loved me. It doesn't make anything hurt less, it doesn't change how I feel. No matter what I do, I keep thinking about you. I miss you. I wish things had been different.

I was seventeen. I had just gotten out of a bad relationship. I had finally broken up with the Edward in my life. My home life was deteriorating. I was losing faith in God, in religion, in love. I was wilting, like a forgotten flower in a too sunny window.

And you came in to my picture. You came into the darkness and pulled me out. Or so I thought.

I had a crush on you. You were so smart, strong and funny. You were sweet and wonderful, it was easy to fall for you. I didn't even have to try. But you had a wife and I valued our friendship too much to say anything. Not that you couldn't see it written all over my face. I can say I never tried to take you from her. I am still her friend, though I still feel the shame bubbling up in my cheeks sometimes when I talk to her.

I worshiped you. I adored you. I loved you. I wrote so many poems in your honour, though I have often said I would not waste another verse on you. I say I will not waste another tear in your name.

I keep thinking back to when I told you that I had a crush on you. You said you had already known. I blushed because I couldn't believe I had been so obvious.

I told you that I wanted to have sex. You said you would ruin me for other men. I told you I wanted to be ruined. Sometimes when I think about that I know you ruined me anyway.

I can still feel your fingers tracing the soft part of my neck up to my ear and back down as I was trying to write that mythology I was creating. I had dedicated a character to you. The most beloved man created by the Gods and Goddesses of my world. I called you Zimri. How fitting that, in the Bible, Zimri is a traitor and the name itself means "my song" (Or mountain sheep, but that fits less perfectly.)

I remember how strongly I wanted to kiss you. I remember making you blush, twice, and marveling at my ability. I remember how badly I wanted you, while feeling the guilt creeping around the edges. Your wife. Your son and your daughter. Your life that I was so desperately wanting to be a part of.

I was seventeen, though, ____! You should've resisted me, should've told me no. Told me that it was inappropriate. Why didn't you? Was I Lolita, seducing you away from God and family?

I blame myself for inviting you to the prom. I blame myself for asking you to go with me. I wish I'd never gone. I wish I'd never said anything. But I wanted that experience. I wanted to experience prom, to experience a dance. It was my first dance and I was so excited to be dancing with you. I remember all the moves we created for "Beep" by the Pussycat Dolls. Sometimes, when I'm reminiscing, I play it. I dance and I think about you.

Sometimes I look at the pictures from that night. The night we stopped being friends. The night we became something more than friends, but less than lovers.

I abandoned you when you said you were leaving her. When you said you no longer believed in God. I was afraid, more than anything. And I was angry. I don't even know why I was so angry. I know I felt ashamed and betrayed for everything that happened between us. But that wasn't the reason I stopped talking to you. You had left me, now you were abandoning God and family. The whole time that I knew it could never be, even when I was hoping it would be, I prayed you would stay married. I prayed you would stay with your wife. I prayed I would forget you.

My prayers were for nothing. I still lost you.

The wound still aches every now and then. It still throbs. I still dream about you. I still miss you. I still love you. The truth of the matter is that I always will.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I had to remove you from my life. I wish I hadn't, now. But where would we be? You wouldn't have come back to me. You wouldn't have fulfilled my dream. You couldn't. We couldn't

Some days, I admit, I still want you. I am comfortable admitting that. I wouldn't do anything now, because I am happily married, but I still wonder.

I think my problem is that I wonder if you still think about me. I just want to know that you miss me too. And I don't know why I want to know that. Do you ever think about me? Do you ever miss me? Do you ever want me still? I wish you would message me. Just once, let me know that you still love me like you said you always would. Even though we still can't be. Even though I shouldn't let you back in.

Darling, I miss you, but this is another in a series of confessions I've written on my way to letting you go. I won't e-mail you. I won't message you on Facebook. I won't try, though I want to sometimes. I will eventually come to terms with this.

In the meantime, I hope you are doing well. I hope you are happy and healthy. I hope all sorts of beautiful hopes for you.

Love,
Sarai

Dear Memere,

Dear Memere,

It has been almost thirteen years since you left us. Thirteen years since I heard your voice, heard you tell me you loved me. Thirteen years since you told me about all the crazy animal adventures that you were having so far away from me. Thirteen years of wishing you were still here and knowing you will never be here again. I suppose I shouldn't wish you were still here, because I know that you would be hurting. I don't want you to hurt, Memere. I just don't want to keep missing you like I do.

I can barely remember your voice. I watch those videos Dad made to keep you alive in my mind. I look through the pictures to keep your face fresh in my soul. Its hard, though, knowing I will never see you again. That I had only such a short time to be loved by you. To get to know you. I wish I had gotten to know you better.

Though, a part of me is terrified that if you were here you wouldn't love me anymore. You wouldn't be proud of me. That is more terrifying than any nightmare I could ever have. The thought that you wouldn't love me if you were still here makes me work harder to be a person you might be proud of. A person you would always love, in spite of my many, many, faults. And I have so many, Memere. More than I can count, even.

I wonder, sometimes, when I look in the mirror and see my reflection staring back at me, if you would like the person I am today. Would I still be someone you enjoyed talking to? Would I have ever sent Dad a hateful letter? Would we all still be clinging to some semblance of a family?

I can't remember how you smell, or what it felt like to be in your arms. I can't remember those little things that would make you still real in my world. I would give anything to talk to you again. Anything to hear your soft accent. Anything to hear you tell me again about the bear in the neighbor's swimming pool or the lizard in your trash can.

I'd give anything to have had you there when I got married. I don't think I've ever missed you as much as I did that day. It was beautiful, even though it was just a courthouse ceremony. I think you would've liked it. I hope you would've liked it.

Its unfair, Memere. Its unfair that you left me when I was so young. I've spent my entire growing up wishing you were here. Praying that somehow the dead could come back, even for a few minutes. Just so I could say goodbye. I never got to say goodbye. I didn't get to go to your funeral. I don't even know where you are buried. Are you near Pepere? Are you somewhere beautiful?

Its such a strange feeling, really. To be so young and have no grandparents left. Pepere first, you, Grandpa and finally Grandma Bobbi. It seems impossible really. Impossible that I have lost you all. Implausible. Improbable. Insane.

I suppose, simply put, I miss you. It only gets worse as I grow older. With each passing year I feel your absence more keenly. I think, "I wish Memere was here so I could tell her about this." But maybe you are here. Maybe you already know. Maybe you are still with me, even when I feel that I have lost all hold I thought I had on your memory. You are such a beautiful memory. Something I never want to lose. Where would I be without even a memory of you?

I love you.
I miss you.
I wish you were somehow here, just for a little while. Just so I could tell you everything I've been wanting to tell you for thirteen years. Just so I could tell you that I love you and I miss playing piano with you. I miss talking to you at night. I miss hearing your voice. I miss that most of all, just hearing you speak always made me feel better. I wish that wishing would give me something besides a throb of pain in my chest and in my throat from holding back the tears.

Dear Memere, I love you.

Love,
Sarai.

Dear Dad,

Dear Dad,

I don't know what to say to you. I don't know where to begin or to end. Where do I even start? The beginning or the end?

Auntie says that I should forget you. That I am better off without you in my life. She says that you have done many horrible things, many awful things. She says I am better off without you. Maybe she is right.

My friends say that I should forget you. That I am better off without you in my life. That you are a druggie, a criminal. You are never going to change and what closure am I going to gain? What answer will I receive? Will reaching you give me any sense of peace? Will finding you give me any sense of closure? Or will it just bring me down further?

Am I using closure as a crutch, Dad? Do I need it to live? To move on?

Why do I even care anymore? Why do I bother? If you wanted to contact me you would, wouldn't you? You know where Auntie is, you could write her and ask her for my information. You could try. Does it mean that you don't care since you never ask about me? Or do you ask about me and she doesn't mention it because she is tired of me putting myself through all this?

Its my fault that you don't write anymore. That you haven't written in ten years. Nobody really knows that but me, so it is understandable that they can't comprehend why I try so hard to find you. And I need your forgiveness, Dad. I can live without the closure. I can live with you not caring about me anymore. But I need you to forgive me.

Forgive that thirteen year old girl who was trying desperately to recover from the loss of her grandmother. Forgive her for being hateful. Pardon her for hating you, at the time. She blamed you for Memere's death. But she was also hurting from promises that were broken as they were made. Forgive her for sending that hateful letter, so many years ago, saying she never wanted to talk to you again, because it was all your fault. Forgive her for falling prey to those horrible feelings building up in her chest.

Forgive me, Dad.

If I don't try to get your forgiveness, if I don't try to say I'm sorry, if I fail, I will never forgive myself. I can't live with myself, knowing that its my fault and that I didn't tell you I was sorry. Because I am sorry, Dad. I'm so sorry.

I miss you. I love you. I hate you. I wish you would give me some sign of something! Anything, really. I just want to know that sometimes you wonder about me. I just want to know that you can forgive my stupidity, that you still love me. Or feel some kind of emotion towards me.

And is that wrong? Is it wrong that I want this from you? I might receive some kind of closure, knowing I made the attempt. I tried. I worked hard, trying to fix it. Knowing it may never be fixed.

I've tried to cut you out of me. I've tried to drink you away. I've tried to lose you somewhere in my memories, far from me. I've tried everything I can think of to relieve this horrific guilt I feel for everything. I've been self-destructive and tried to rebuild. I've done things I'm not proud of, things I long to go back to, but I can't let myself. But in the end, you are a part of me.

You are in my smile, in my laugh. You are in my bloodstream, you are a part of me that I can never get rid of. No matter how hard I try. You are wired into me, just like our shared DNA. We are intrinsically entwined.

What do I do? Do I try to fix this? Do I let it go? Could I let it go?

Are you a crutch? Is this just a shameless cry for sympathy and attention?

I need some sort of resolution. What resolution do I expect? It has been ten years. Ten years and I can't forgive myself, or you. I can't let it go and I can't make it right.

So where does this leave us?

Confession

While I'm admitting secrets, maybe I should tell you that you meant the world to me and it hurts so much that you decided that our friendship wasn't worth the time. I hate you, but I miss you. Maybe someday it will fade, but for today it is an angry welt on my heart that keeps screaming curses at you for the betrayal. Are you Happy?

To My Husband (Whenever He May Come)

   Begin in me, stir in me, breathe in me a love I did not know. Press your hand to my heart so that I may drink deeply from your wisdom and knowledge. Let me know what you know, speak words I didn't even believe were true, give birth to a whole new life within my soul.
   Let me lose control and you gain it, let me sleep quietly in the haven of your arms. Be my protection and my warrior. Love me, be one with my soul and heart. Let God be your guide, so that you might lead me into His light. Help me bear the pain, help me stand whenever I fall. Be a man after God's own heart.
   Say you'll be my best friend and lover, my warrior and gentle guide. Let me stray not to any other, but let me be your only. Your wife.

To a best friend

   How can I repay you for all the times you listened to my sorrows?
How can I repay you for all the hours you spent listening to my
endless chatter?
   How can I repay you for putting up with me for so long? What
could I give you to say, "Thank You"? What words can there be
to express how much I love you for always being there when
I needed you?
   God must have known how lonely I would be on this Earth, so, He
sent you to me! You brought me closer to God without even
knowing it.
   You kept me sane in an insane world. You were sweet when the
world was bitter. When I was down, you pulled me up. When I
cried you were always there to dry my tears and say, "It'll
be okay."
   Love doesn't really cover every area of the way I feel
about you. You've done everything for me, now it is my
turn to give your gift back to you.
   You are the best friend anyone could wish for. I am
the luckiest person in the world to be your friend.
   Thank You! :)

Yet another "Dear" Letter

Dear _____,

I would like to preface this letter by saying that this is not a request for more contact. I do not need nor desire to hear your excuses or your reasons. I would like to say my peace and then be done with the whole situation. In essence, washing my hands of YOU and all the crap that comes with YOU.

So, let's begin shall we?

First off, I do not understand why you are NOW wanting to come back. Really? It's been what? 8 months? I know that you couldn't have possibly grown up in that amount of time. Nobody changes that quickly. You fucked things up. If you had really cared, you would've tried much harder THEN than you did. You would've acted like an adult and not tried to place the blame for your own actions on others.

Mature? When have you EVER been mature? You talked all the time about how you had to grow up SO fast. I would like to refer you to the last letter I sent you. The one that listed all the things that I had to go through growing up. The one that said unless you had something to compare you were in no way grown up or had to grow up too fast.

Your mother pays for everything. You don't have a job. You have never had a job. You don't pay bills, you don't pay for food or clothes. You don't pay for your internet or phone. You joy-ride with your "friends" all the time. You buy new clothes, cds, purses, etc. Shall I go on?

Secondly, oh did you fuck up. So hard, _____. I can't even begin to explain to you where you went wrong. Shall I try? Well, there is attacking my boyfriend. You should know better. You NEVER attack your "friend's" boyfriend. That is ridiculous and pedantic. You are so childish.

You lied. About everything!! That stuff you said happened at school NEVER DID. You said all of it for the attention. You know what? I actually had that shit happen to me! Do you know how hard it is to get justice for that kind of thing? Really fucking hard. You know what else? You just made it even harder for those girls who have that actually happen.

You lied about _______. You are two-faced. You have always been two-faced. I can't believe it took me so long to see it! After all the two-faced and backstabbing bitches I've dealt with in my life, you would think I would recognize one. But no, you played it cool. You had me fooled.

And worst of all, when I needed you most, you weren't there for me. I have done quite a good job of cutting you out of my heart and my mind. I don't even really think about you anymore, you know that? That was when I knew it was over. When you completely ignored me after my Grandfather died, I knew I could never be friends with a selfish bitch like you ever again. Seriously? You should have known how I was feeling. Your grandfather died not that long ago.

Come back to me in a few decades and maybe I'll have forgiven you.

Sincerely,
Sarai

Another "Dear" Letter

Dear ___ or _____ or Any other Jack-Ass with a Dick,

Please do one of the following to yourself:

* Fuck yourself in the ass with a razor-wire dildo.

* Rip your intestines out of your dick and eat them.

* Take a high dive with piano wire wrapped around your throat.

* Get ass raped by a huge biker dude with "Mom" tattooed on his arm and a fresh case of Gonorrhea, Herpes, Syphilis and AIDS.

* Get killed by a serial killer who eats their victims while they are still alive.

or...

* Get stabbed in the genitals repeatedly by a strung out whore with a rabid porcupine in heat.

Sincerely,
Sarai.

P.S. No! I'm not pissed off at you at all! Do me a favor? Choke on a penis and die. ^^

P.P.S. I hope your penis breaks every time you try to fuck a girl.

To my Father

Do you ever wonder? Does your mind ever drift towards mine in the darkness of the night? Do you ever think about what it would've been like to watch us grow up? To watch us change and mature, take wing like silken butterflies on a summer breeze?

Or do you just lie on your bed in your cell, listening to your cellmate masturbate and wonder how you ended up where you are now?

Does it suck knowing that you have two children all grown up somewhere, you don't even know where? Do you ever wish that you were here, or do you just pretend that we don't exist? Believe it or not, we do exist.

Do you still care? Did you even care to begin with?

I wonder. My mind often drifts toward wherever yours may reside, drifting over endless seas of darkness and time. I try not to think about what it would've been like to have a father to be there for me. And now, we are adults, unlike those butterflies because we have no wings with which to fly. I can't stand to think about you some days, it's like watching a bloody sunrise and wishing the dead back to life.

It sucks knowing that you never got to watch us grow up, that you don't even know where we are right now. It sucks because we don't know where you are either. I wish you were here, I can't deny your existence no matter how hard I try.

I still care. I have always cared. I miss You.

Hung Up On Bitter-Sweet

Dear _____,

I wanted to write you a letter, to explain what I'm feeling right now, but I can't bring myself to enter into the beauty that is your life now. I don't understand any of it, I loved you so much. I don't understand why you ended up with her, but I hear that you are happy, I know you have a child now. I can't help but think sometimes that that child might have been mine had things been very different. We could've been happy, but you never said anything, you never spoke to me or told me how you felt. Why didn't you speak up? I know you cared for me too! You expressed it in so many unspoken ways and I thought, finally, someone looked beyond the flesh and saw the me that was sitting inside the prison of my body. But I guess not now. I guess that was just another lie in a long list of sins.

I wanted to tell you how much I hate to hear your name now because I feel like crying every time I think about you. I wanted to tell you all the feelings welling up inside of me and why they are there. I wish I could, but I can't bring myself to hurt her like that. Even though we haven't been friends in years, I can't help but try to be kind to her. I loved her once, you know. I called her friend at one time, before all of this has fallen onto the jagged rocks of reality. I just don't understand you. I know the reasons, I hate the reasons. Why did you ask him, when you must have known what he would say? I would have given it all up, you know. I would've given up all those dreams, all those hopes if you had said something. I hate that you never actually spoke up, professed some feelings for me. Why?

Instead, here I am, heart-broken thinking about the times we had together, when you actually seemed to care. I have to know, I want to know. Do you love her? Or did you marry her because they said she was perfect for you? Do you treat her well? Does she love you or did she just marry you because you were perfect too? And why is it wrong to believe like I do? Why should belief tear people apart when it should bring them together? I don't regret not having you, I am in love with someone now, but it still hurts so. Some days it's like you tore my heart out and then shoved it back upside down and backwards. You can't force a square into a circle and you can't force my heart back in when you've already disfigured it like you have.

So, I guess this is goodbye, love. I am slowly getting over you and the pain that I didn't know could exist. Did you know that sometimes the longing for someone you loved so passionately once can put a bitter taste on the world until even the beautiful things that you have going have that bitter-sweetness to them? Do you still love me? Did you ever really care about me or did I just imagine that you actually loved me once? I wish I could ask, but I don't want to destroy what you have. Maybe we never would've been happy, maybe we wouldn't have lasted long, but God, I wish I had at least had that chance to find out. I don't understand why it hurts so much, I really don't. I do love him, he is amazing. He is sweet and loving and smart. He is everything that you were and yet different and brilliant with his own mix of spice and sweet. There is pain and there is joy and I don't understand why I'm still so hung up on the pain you caused.

Dearest of hearts, I know it wasn't meant to be. Don't worry, I'm going to be okay. I wish you happiness with her. I sincerely hope that you love her, that you actually care and that you are kind to her. I love you enough to let you go this last time, even though I never really wanted to in the first place.

Sincerely and best wishes.
_____ _. ______