Dear Intruder | (Completed)

CHAPTER 5: Perfect Strangers

CHAPTER 5: Perfect Strangers

(Letter)

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21 Apr 2018

Dear You,

'Meeting is just the beginning of parting' you said that to me once, do you remember? I thought those words were bittersweet but didn't acknowledge the truth they stood for.

I see them now, I know it's a little late, but now I understand.

You always were the realist all along, while I wandered around with my head in the clouds.

I think it's still hard for me to let go because I'm scared of letting go. There's a comfort in holding on, and security in the knowledge of being tethered and stable, but fear is often greater than the danger itself. I see it now.

And the truth is I'm tired.

I'm tired of a lot of things, I'm tired of constantly checking my phone expecting a word from you.

I sometimes miss you more when I need to speak to you- there are some things that no one else knows except you, I have not shared my life with many people and when something goes amiss in those elements I have no one to turn to. You and my brother are the only two people I have completely opened up to and now you are both gone.

Mom keeps telling me to speak with him, to reconcile and make peace, she doesn't understand it's not that easy. She was also telling me to visit for the holidays but I can't go home, he'll be there and he doesn't want me there. I don't know how to deal with it, I don't think I can even look him in the eye and face everything I really want to forget.

I'm tired of feeling like I'm the only one still holding on, tired of faking smiles when your name comes up in conversations, tired of writing these letters, tired of missing you. I'm tired of thinking that maybe... just maybe, you're thinking of all the things I am and are probably waiting for me to reach out.

But I'm too afraid to test the theory.

So, I've decided to stop. To stop blaming you for everything I thought was your fault alone, to stop resenting you because I still love you and to stop wanting to be next to you so desperately. Loving you used to fill me with brightness and joy, but now it only brings me wretched heartache.

It is causing me more pain than aid, and I want to be utterly selfish today. I wish to stop this self detriment.

No longer do I wish to hold on to something that's long gone, alive only as a phantom in my memories. I'm getting myself used to these waning muted emotions I feel for you, and maybe they too will fade away soon.

Yours

(Relentingly)

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(REPLY)

5 Sept 2018

Dear Elliot,

Why is it that every time I read one of your letters, they always evoke a different set of feelings in me?

You've said multiple times how you don't wish to send these letters and sometimes I think you should have, even if you think you wouldn't have received a reply, at least you could live with the knowledge that your words were out there, travelling towards the one who needs to hear them...

It definitely wouldn't have weighed you down.

Unsent letters are like, unspoken words, unexpressed feelings, and unvoiced thoughts which are all harmless in the moment.... but over time they turn into a burden, regret and bitterness.

Meeting sure is just the beginning of parting. Before reading your letter I probably would have jumped to a conclusion in thinking 'what a pessimistic thought' but you're right it's real, in a very sincere form.

The fact that makes me think I can relate with you so far is; living with my head in the clouds or in this case with my head in your letters... See what you've done?

I should be worrying over my grades and assignments but here I am... worrying over your letters instead. It's not your fault so of course, I won't hold it against you.

You're a stranger. A completely perfect stranger. I wouldn't know if you walked past me right now... (Although the thought of that is eerie, I mean... What are the odds?)

I don't even know your name or age or anything else that seems to matter, but somehow I feel closer to you than anyone else these days.

I've been thinking about you and your diary more often these days, my mind raises inquisitive questions like who you are in real life? What went wrong in your love life and why is there so much tension between you and your brother? I know who you are between the pages of a personal diary but maybe reality is completely different.

Somehow I don't imagine you to be boisterous and loud, I think you to be quiet and calm, maybe except for when you are excited about something you like. But I can't be sure.

Do I know you at all or are you an unfamiliar face in this huge place we probably share? Are your words just as thoughtful when you speak them, as they are when you write?

Among these thoughts the realisation set in that I'm never gonna find out. And to tell you the truth it's disheartening. I would have liked to be friends with you... and maybe tease you about all these letters. Who knows what a friendship with you would look like?

Before I forget and sign away I should tell you I applaud and admire you for the tough decision you made and the fact that you decided to let go of the resentment, it's not an easy thing to do and I hope you have no regrets.

Wistfully

Annie

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