22 May 2018 – I only write to ghosts. You must be one of them.

Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park, Big Sur, California (Miranda Hernandez)
Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park, Big Sur, California (Miranda Hernandez)

For a long time, I lived in limbo. I was numb, or I was full of pain. I had no room for anything but survival. He lived in every waking thought and dream.

And it may sound odd, but that completeness was comforting. That pain was my solace, the one thing I could rely on.

You were more than pain. You swept into my life and your presence promised happiness. And I hated that, because happiness wasn’t something I wanted to know. And I hate it more now, standing here, awake and oh so lonely. And this pain isn’t comforting. And this new life feels broken.

And I know it’s not fair that I’m talking to you. I know I’m not a person yet, and you aren’t to blame. But I hate you anyway. I hate how this hurts me. And this pain isn’t anything. But somehow I’m still bleeding.

And afterwards, I find I can’t go back inside the darkness. I can’t get it to cover me. I can’t forget my mind. And if you’re wondering — yes, I do blame you. Because that life was my everything. And this new world is empty. And you dragged me here, kicking and screaming.

I live in the world now, I’m alive and I’m participating. And this will never be okay. And I both hate and I forgive you.

Now please stay. Or go away.

Stay?

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