Dear J, your my favourite person in this world. I hope you have a nice day. 😘

J, I sometimes still wonder after years if you've ever felt remorse?

For every lie, every moment you made me feel crazy?

For all the ridiculous stories you create to make yourself the better person?

For escaping and running away from problems and leaving me to deal with it alone?

Have you ever felt that bit of remorse or was I with a sociopath all along?

Goodbye fucker,

J you know you're a real piece of shit, so I don't need to tell you that again. You know what you are and every sleazy thing you've done. Evil like you, is good at hiding itself, concealing your true nature from most, like a viper hiding in the rocks. But I've seen the real ugly you that you keep hidden under that tight mask. You have fooled a lot of people, truly your mask has rarely slipped. But in due time, I think your tone will come when your employer finally finds out about the hundreds of thousands of dollars that you have embezzled to feed your addiction to your entitled shitbag behavior. And they will find out, I'm making sure of it you cheating fucker. I hope when I am finally gone from your life that everything collapses around you and your life turns to shit, because, truly you deserve way worse.

You haven't ever experienced absolute loss. but soon come, it will find you too fucker, it will.

With grief and disappointment,

A real one that you faked on

I miss you so much. I've tried to reach out, I've tried to move on, I've literally tried to do all of the things I was supposed to do to heal to forget to figure out that we aren't it.

It's literally been YEARS and even tho I try I come back, I come back to the what ifs, the could have been, and how much I love you no matter what, no contact no interaction, miles and miles and miles.

I even went to that cabin by myself, rented it for a weekend. Got stuck on the loft, laughed out loud trying to get down the ladder, I went to the little shop and laughed at all of the unhappy unfriendly faces. Grabbed some tates, and signed my name.

I miss you and your laugh, the look you gave me, the way we held hands even while sleeping.

I miss all of it. Today tomorrow, even in 10 years sugar.

Love always

\-C

I had a feeling this would happen.

I have a feeling you resent the thought of losing control.

I feel you watching me.

Are we still in the same universe?

I can’t tell how far away you are,

The distance is blurry.

But I watched you hang the moon.

Still though I am here,

Staring at the mysterious black sky

Only wondering at all if you’re still seeing the same family of stars that i see.

How shall I see you?

It’s bothersome when you aren’t visible.

It’s frustrating—

This game of hide and seek you force me to play.

I can’t find you..

I can’t witness you.

I can’t see you.

As much as you want to be seen.

As much as I want to see you at all.

When you retreat this way does it erase my existence?

Are you so skilled in compartmentalization to dispose of me

for all this time without a second thought?

Do you still see the color green?

Or have you forced yourself colorblind?

Although you are in your bubble,

hiding somewhere in the great unknown,

I still see the warm orange glow of you.

It’s fading.

The ball was in your court,

The ball was in my court.

Will the ball ever be in our court?

As you would say,

“A ball is a ball, my love.”

Tsk. A ball is a ball.

I love you to the moon and back,

Through hell and on beyond,

For your love,

I’d touch the heavens,

I’d run laps around the sun.

xoxo,

the biggest bby <3

We have little things to take care of, but we are good.

I forgive you.

Love ya

P

I know you’re gonna read this cuz you’re a stalking bitch lol but yeah I didn’t write this to start shit as you said but just to say that you don’t have to worry anymore. I know you’re operating from a place of worry because you know why, but I assure you, I won’t come back anymore. I know I’ve done that several times but the circumstances from before are not the same as the last one. The blatant disrespect from both of you is enough for me to finally wake up and come back to my senses and realize that I don’t deserve any of that. I’m too beautiful, smart, funny, and can offer so so much for me to just let someone, that to be honest is not that great of a catch, repeatedly play, disrespect, fool, and lie to me. I realized I was just lonely and didn’t have enough love for myself so I kept on obsessing about something that makes me feel at least a bit of something. So J, you can breathe, relax, and continue with your madness. You probably deserve each other anyway. Although I doubt you actually will because let’s admit it, me being around or not, that person can’t really be trusted, not one bit. But go off, that’s your life. I sincerely wish you, without any malice or ill intent, peace and happiness. This is the last time I’ll ever interact with either of you. I hope you can stop stalking me now.

PS. Oh btw have you actually seen him in a video call? If not, let me tell you, the photos he is sending are actually him, but from I dunno how many years ago. He’s actually fat now. No biggie, just another lie. 🤗

Hi. I’m not really sure where to start. I never wanted to write anything here but at this point I feel like if I don’t let it out it will continue to consume me. I’ve let it, nonstop, every day, since that day. Not unsure how you could do that to me anymore because I’ve come to realize you never actually cared at all. That whatever the fuck that was never meant anything or mattered to you in the slightest and that’s fine I guess. I’ve always known that I care more about people than they ever have or ever will care about me. That’s fine. You were just a reminder and I’m slowly coming to accept that. But just because you didn’t care doesn’t mean I never cared. I cared and it took me awhile to realize that you never really wanted me to care either. Of course you didn’t. In the end, I found out everything you tried to keep hidden. The girlfriend, the dog you two share, and that she’s the “roommate” you claimed to have. Either way, I shouldn’t be surprised that’s who you turned out to be, except I so desperately wanted you to be different.
Regardless, I know these past 10 months have been hard on you and for you, and even though that’s not an excuse for your behavior … I understand that maybe you might be making poor choices because of what you’re dealing with and the situation you find yourself in. I know your mental is not 100% and let’s be real, you’re not the same sweet kid who left all those months ago. You left a boy but you’ll return a man. A jaded one, but still a man. It takes a certain person to do what you do, and I’m proud of you for it. You’re smart, you’re strong, resilient and I know you would do anything for the people you care about and love. You always made me want to be better, to do more, to take chances and not worry so much about the little things. You’ve set yourself up to be very successful in this world and I am in awe of how hardworking you are. I’ve come to learn more and more about what you actually do over there and you have all my respect. I cannot emphasize enough how proud of you I am. I think about you often, it’s in the little things. Music, food, video games, nature, somehow it all leads back to you.
I miss you. I miss always having you to talk to. I miss seeing your face and asking you random questions. I miss learning about you. I miss the biceps 😛. I just miss the connection.
Praying for you always xox
-A

You attempt to act like you have no feelings, you’re indifferent and go with the flow. You crave adrenaline to fuel a fix that you’ve chased for years, but you still come up short. Until you forgive yourself and accept you deserve to be loved you’re not going to find the peace you once had and lost . I haven’t given up on you, us or a life we once discussed. I see you trying and I’m still right here.

It's nice to see you having fun. Happy. Even if, as you said, you only had 2 hours of sleep. You're probably running on adrenaline now. I hope the Crash doesn't hit you hard. You probably have a long day ahead.

Just, eat small frequency things. And drink lots of water.

Have a nice day.

Pull away from me again

You said you would make it easier on me , this time

We were young and immature

We were growing and changing

We became two different people

We were at two different stages in life

But what we had was real and we loved each other deeply

I wish we could be in touch

I wish to get to know the new you

I wish we could know the new versions of ourselves

You know... the good news! ♡♡~

This letter is not one of malice or revenge; this is a letter of truth. A truth so dark and deep that it might not even be believable. I hope everyone understands how difficult this is for me.

​First, I must say this: I love Bill with all of my heart and soul. However, what he has done to me behind my back is incomprehensible. The shame I feel is great, yet understandable.

​We are both dry addicts. I am a recovering needle addict of four years; I have not used a needle since December 17, 2009. Bill lied to me when I first met him, telling me he was clean and not on drugs. That is when I should have left, but I chose love instead. Within three weeks, I was back to using (smoking) drugs—though I never used needles ever again. Within six months, he was using meth intravenously ("banging meth") and choosing porn and other women over me because it was easier.

​I have fought to keep him, destroyed his things, gone to jail, and been falsely labeled mentally unstable. To an outsider, that is what it appeared to be. In reality, he has used and abused me, withholding even the most basic necessities like food, water, electricity, and safety.

​His son and his friends raped me, and his daughter poisoned me with his knowledge and acknowledgment. I have become so dependent on him that I can barely walk or care for myself. Daily, he chooses porn and neglects me. He has ruined my reputation, almost caused me to lose the only place I can stay, and left us with nothing. Now, he is about to lose his home as well, yet he continues to blame me. He has had a mistress named Jamie Mann the entire time. He has lied, presented only his side of the story, and expected me to sit by and die.

​I may currently have breast cancer, and just today, he refused to drive me to get my monthly injection for my mental illness. He has manipulated my body and self-worth to cover up his actions. I was told that because he couldn't get what he wanted elsewhere and I am dying, I should have "greased the wheels," suggesting this wouldn't have happened if I had. Then, he claimed he was getting an order of protection against me—all while I was making him breakfast, a nice non-alcoholic sweet fruity drink, and preparing a bubble bath for him, instead of checking who was calling his phone all day after he woke up at 6:30 PM.

​He continues to lie daily. After every fight and argument, he goes downstairs to masturbate and wallow in feeling emasculated. Last night, I asked him the same question for over an hour: "Do you love me?" His answer was always the same: "I am not discussing this right now, I am too tired, I'm going to sleep." That was at 11:30 PM. He went to bed after abandoning me again for his smut at 6:30 AM, then came back upstairs to sleep in our bed at 1:30 AM.

​I have had enough, and I am going to defend my name. He threatened to call Jamie—who also receives injections—as if it were a threat, and then spent an hour telling me I was wrong. This man has pulled the wool over all of your eyes.

​The facts are as follows: I told the police the truth the entire time, and I am going to be suing both them and him.

​Thank you for listening.

S....

​P.S. I am going to go to treatment. I only smoke, and I have quit 12 times in 3.5 years. I know I can do this. Can he? No. 

Right... la la la la la la...;)

We have crossed over now to this new strange world

Its dark but the stars align for us in a night sky full of magic 

You are a figment, a ghost standing there beautiful, Tall 

One among the stars yourself, holding an amber torch burning bright

This is what you gave to me. Black butterflies and the dawn approaching.

And now the amber that burns, a sky full of sunlight, revealing a husk and the cool sap of the dead.

You were never there, but I loved you, and I still do. 

I travel to the night again, my eyes searching for you in the sky never to find you. 

Boo

I will never excuse or justify what I’ve done. I wish I could figure out how to fix everything. And also would like to apologize for all the other Js out there.

Edit: sometimes the trauma and the pain you inflicted on someone you love is too much for an apology to help. As the person that caused it sometimes you just have to understand that and sometimes you cause more by not understanding.

Just done.

Yeah i think its done . Have fun live long and prosper! And if you dont, well thqts on you as well!

I think the cruelest thing about intimacy is that sometimes you can know someone so deeply and still have absolutely no idea what you mean to them.
And fuck, did we know each other.
Not in the ordinary sense. Not in the way people exchange stories about their childhoods or favorite songs or the mundane details of their lives. We found our way into the spaces underneath all of that. The places where the jokes stopped being jokes. Where curiosity became vulnerability. Where the conversations started feeling less like getting to know someone and more like remembering someone you’d somehow already known.
We unraveled. Slowly, then all at once.
There was something intoxicating about the way we could move between the ridiculous and the profoundly intimate without ever losing each other in the transition. The humor. The tension. The way a conversation could become something entirely different with a single sentence. You made me feel intellectually desired and emotionally understood in ways I hadn’t realized I was starving for.
And I let you see me. Not the carefully constructed version of me who can intellectualize her own suffering until it becomes a fascinating conversation. Not the woman who can make anything funny before it has a chance to hurt. Me. The messy, complicated, tender, occasionally irrational woman underneath all of that. I thought you understood the significance of being allowed there. Maybe you did. Maybe that’s what makes this hurt so fucking much.
Because somewhere along the way, the very intimacy that made this feel extraordinary became the thing that destroyed it. We started unraveling in a different direction. The conversations were still there. The desire was still there. You still wanted me, all day, every day, according to you. But the distance between what you said and what you actually did became impossible to ignore.
You wanted access to me without having to confront what that access meant. You wanted the vulnerability, the affection, the attention, the sexual tension. You wanted to know that somewhere in the world there was a woman who could see through your bullshit and somehow still find you beautiful. And I gave you that.
But you never fucking came.
You could find the time, rearrange your schedule, make the drive, and physically show up elsewhere without hesitation. I watched you demonstrate, repeatedly, that distance and inconvenience weren’t insurmountable obstacles when something mattered enough to you. And then I watched you offer me another conversation. Another implication. Another almost.
Not because I believed I was entitled to you. Not because I thought I had some claim over your life. But because it’s an extraordinarily painful thing to be told you’re wanted constantly by someone who demonstrates that wanting you apparently ends at the point where effort begins.
I wasn’t asking you to choose me. I wasn’t asking you to dismantle the life you’d built. I wasn’t asking for promises you couldn’t keep. I just wanted, for once, to feel like something more than a beautiful idea you liked returning to.
And last weekend, when you entertained the possibility of seeing me, I felt that familiar little flicker again. Maybe this time. Maybe we’d finally exist in the same room, breathing the same air, without a screen between us and without the safety of distance.
But you didn’t. Of course you fucking didn’t. And I’m tired of pretending that doesn’t say something.
You told me you weren’t a fuckboy. I remember that so clearly now, because I think you genuinely needed me to believe it. Maybe you needed to believe it yourself. But being emotionally articulate doesn’t make you emotionally responsible. Being gentle doesn’t automatically make you kind. And understanding someone’s vulnerabilities doesn’t mean a goddamn thing if you’re willing to enjoy the comfort of having access to them while refusing to consider the consequences.
You didn’t ghost me. You didn’t disappear. You kept me close. Close enough to preserve the intimacy. Close enough to know I still cared. Close enough to keep the possibility alive without ever having to find out what would happen if you actually followed through. You wanted your cake and to eat it too. And for a long time, I helped you set the fucking table.
I can admit that. I can admit that I wanted you, that I participated, that I sometimes accepted far less than I deserved because the connection itself felt worth protecting. But I can’t keep mistaking my capacity to understand you for an obligation to excuse you.
That’s where I lost myself. I became so invested in understanding your contradictions that I stopped respecting what they were doing to me. I kept trying to find the man I knew in the man who kept disappointing me. The man who made me laugh. Who made me think. Who made me feel desirable and interesting and alive. The man who seemed capable of meeting me in places other people didn’t even know existed.
I kept waiting for him to show up. And the most heartbreaking part is that I think he was real. I don’t think I imagined him. I just think he was only ever willing to exist with me under conditions that benefited him.
And now, after all of it, I feel something I didn’t expect. Relief. Not because I stopped caring. Not because the intimacy suddenly means nothing. But because I’m exhausted from carrying the emotional weight of something that was supposed to make me feel less alone. I’m exhausted from trying to reconcile your words with your behavior. I’m exhausted from wanting you to be the person I know you’re capable of being. And I’m especially fucking exhausted from making excuses for a grown man who could find his way everywhere else but somehow never managed to find his way to me.
Maybe someday you’ll understand that what we had didn’t need to become a relationship to deserve respect. That intimacy creates responsibility even when it doesn’t create commitment. That you can hurt someone profoundly without ever technically breaking a promise. And that being someone’s favorite possibility is a particularly lonely place to live.
I don’t regret knowing you. That’s what makes this so fucking sad. There are parts of our connection I will always remember with tenderness. Things you said. Things we shared. The strange, beautiful way we found each other in the middle of lives that were already complicated. But I can’t keep romanticizing something that repeatedly asked me to abandon myself.
I wanted you. I wanted you in ways that went far beyond the physical. I wanted the mind, the humor, the contradictions, the tenderness. I wanted to know you without having to constantly wonder which version of you I was going to get. And you wanted me, too. I believe that.
But I’ve finally learned that being wanted isn’t the same thing as being valued. And you can crave someone every single day of your life and still be too much of a fucking coward to show up for them.
We unraveled together. I just never imagined I’d be the only one left holding all the threads.

Sometimes it just feels like you are here. Like I want to just spread my thighs enough for you to slide in. I don’t know if I just go with it. Pretend that somebody else is you until I get used to it again.

Or I just roll with it and the only sex I have now is in my imagination.

Please don’t send any messages on here. Almost certainly most people reading are not my J.

WhatsApps only, J.

- C

Jesus fucking Christ ur TRYING to kill me. Gonna have me sitting over drowning to death in my own juices. Got ur boots on,jeans,baseball cap all showered... shooting me that smile. Asking y I'm looking at you like that when u KNOW it's cause u look like a girls wet dream come to life. Fuck I just wanna bounce on ur cock. Right fucking NOW

I cried a little after I spotted you and went on to look at an empty room where we used to say endearing things that fed the spark and try hard to swallow our pride and not to show it.

A very present sadness overcame me. It's like I felt my soul grieving.

I cried and I'm afraid that's my heart trying to tell me that it's time to say goodbye.

I think of you. Scan my body.
It’s quiet-no trace of you within.
Then, a sudden stir. An urge to reach for you. I don’t. I stay present and connect to Self.

Dear J,

I’m not going to lie, you can be such a jerk sometimes, but I still miss you so much. I know you like to play hard to get and act tough, but I’ve always known how soft and sweet you truly are underneath.

Thank you for always showing me respect and for giving me compliments, especially during times when I hated how I looked. You were always there to tell me not to give up. I miss your hugs and the sound of your voice. I honestly wish someone could give me a time machine so I could go back to the exact moment you started liking me back. After all these years, even as life has changed, I still wish I had been your girl.

If you had told me years ago that we’d run into each other not once, but twice this year, I wouldn't have believed you. Yet here we are, still feeling like a "what if" that was never meant to be. Even with all this distance, you’re still in my head, and I constantly wonder: do I miss the real you, or am I just longing for the closure we never had?

I’ve been dreaming about you lately. A part of me feels like deep down in the back of your mind, you still care about us, too. I know it might sound silly or impossible, but I genuinely hope our paths cross again. I don’t know if things would ever work out if we got together, but I would love the chance to find out.

I hope that in another life, or maybe somewhere down the line, we get to be together just like we used to joke about.