Well I guess I don't quite know how to start this. I mean maybe I should talk about the heartbreak, how I lost a part of myself, how I tried to kill myself, how everything went downhill so fast. Or maybe I should start with how I even got the idea to start writing these letters. After awhile, after my incident my parents decided it would be a good idea for me to visit a therapist. I mean I despised the idea with all in me. Why should I confess my feelings to a stranger who will sit there writing down my secrets with a judgemental look. Not my idea of a good time. Then again after what happened I was never having a good time. Everyone told me you'll get over it, the pain will go away. But what they don't know is that it won't. The pain never goes away. Once you love someone, once you give a part of yourself away, you never stop loving that person. Once that person decides that they don't love you anymore is devastating and you don't just get over that kind of pain. The way people shake their head and say you will be ok makes me think that they have never felt that kind of pain before. They just couldn't have.
After a few therapy sessions my therapist, Jenny, said that to release some of the pain and thoughts I have I should write in a diary or a journal. I thought that's an awful idea why would I ever do that, someone could find it. But I was just sitting on my bed one day, sobbing my eyes out per usual, when I glanced out the window and noticed a small white square of paper resting on the pane. My window had always been bolted closed so I carefully removed the bolts with a drill kept in the garage, my dad's lair, and then unlatched the lock. After that, I just opened the window and snatched the paper. It couldn't have been a coincidence that the paper had somehow made it to my second floor window. I peeped at the window and quickly at the door to make sure it was still closed before I started unfolding the paper. The note was clean and smelled of pine needles, how refreshing. Besides the crisp smell I noticed the perfect newsprint handwriting that sprawled out an address. 3168 Cheshire Ln. Now this is my first letter and I didn't want to keep it so on a whim I decided that I would send the letters to the address as a way of moving on from the feelings. The feelings that hold me hostage every day. The feelings that debilitate me. The feelings that were a result of everything that had happened. If you are recieving these letters then you know how the paper got to my windowsill. And now you will know my story too.
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Letters From My Broken Heart
Teen FictionMcKayla was in a committed relationship that recently ended and she explains her heartbreak in letters whcih she sends to a random address that recently appeared on a note on her windowsill.
