UNSENT LETTERS

One of the ways I started writing was through letters. Unsent letters.

 I would express myself fully, and sometimes pain-fully in hopes I could rationalize why (usually a young lady) didn't desire my existence in her life.

 I had no plan on sending these, so I could be brutal with them and myself. I should have saved some. They would probably make me cringe now...

What is strange is, I seem to have picked up the habit once again. This time it was from the reaction of actual letters SENT, and their complete absence of a response. If I would get no reply, then why bother SENDING them in the first place???

 It was a prescription for me. I would read the letter later, and usually the reaction was "GLAD I didn't send THAT!" Time has a way of healing, all by itself.

 I'm NOT saying the letter's effect is permanent, or even long-lasting. It's like lotion on itchy dry skin. Feels good at the moment, but the itchy will return. Just hoping, a bit less irritating next time.

The source of this discomfort is puzzling. I can say, without a doubt, that LOGICALLY, the emptiness and sorrow are easily explained away.

I'm an idiot.

More than once, I felt for someone that had no feelings for me. They weren't honest, they weren't approachable, and their ultimate choice in companionship had me questioning my own judgement of people. ALL people. And me. Mostly me. Only me.

As I immediately review these lines above, I confirm this accusation of idiocy and add a little "get over it" as a sidebar.

If only it was so easy.

So why do I seem stuck? Do I enjoy my reflection of a fool? Am I THAT lost of a soul that even a phantom romance is missed, with as much, (or more than) most of the REAL ones I've had? Jeeze. I hope not.

If I detach and look at this in my usual clinical way, I'd say that I miss the IDEA of someone to love. Knowing ALL that is in my scrambled brain, there is a deeper reason. That, is the fading idea of fatherhood. It was a large part of my longing for someone that I saw as smart, respected, funny, and oh yea, stunning to look at.

I will turn 54 in a few months and know deep down, the time for kids has pretty much gone by. My sadness in not being able to pass down some of the wisdom acquired from these past decades is a constant cloud hanging over me. I failed to make the world better. As much as I WANTED to, it just didn't happen. Hell, I can't even make MY OWN world better so what was I thinking??????

 But maybe...

Maybe it WOULD for my offspring. Maybe by learning from my MANY mistakes, the son or daughter I WOULD have had, could have done what I couldn't.

Combine those thoughts with the unending loneliness that I go through, and it's a battle that is sometimes won.

Mostly though, in my deepest and enduring truths, I look back at life with a profound sense of wasted opportunities.

My lack of good judgement brought me here. It certainly wasn't a lack of good people. It has brought me wisdom. Learning from my mistakes. But for what purpose at this stage in life?

To some I am an even-tempered, kind, and compassionate soul. To others I'm a stupid fool that didn't know how good I could have had it. To myself, I am a flawed, tormented, and emotional warrior. One that is in a constant battle with the demons of the past and present, the unknown (but clearly dark) future, and even surrounded by the best of friends, achingly alone.

My world is missing that irreplaceable person to share my soul with. I wish I knew why...



PS - Obviously, this letter didn't help much. Questions remain unanswered. Pain still cleverly disguised as a smile. No end to the solitude in sight. Darkness still surrounds.

So why NOT share it? Does that still make it "unsent" though...

Great.

More questions....