Dear A, Part Six

Dear A,

    I know that this is important for me to get out, but sometimes the memories overwhelm me.

    It seems I am easily overwhelmed now.

    The other day I was drinking tea on the balcony, finishing up some grading, when I heard a sudden knock on the door. I was so startled, I managed to spill the entire contents of my teacup all over myself. It ended up being the building manager, coming by to drop off a paper regarding the maintenance being done on my floor.

    I guess after everything that happened, it’s not really surprising, it’s just hard for me to accept this part of myself now. The overly anxious part of my personality, that seems to be a permanent fixture now.

    I've stopped seeing my therapist. Partly because I was tired of being analyzed, but mainly because I was tired of being talked at. Being told how I should be coping, how I should start the healing process.

    It’s difficult to start a process, I know will have no purpose for me. You need to have something broken to heal, and I’m not broken, I’ve just died a little inside. And there is no cure for that. No one can bring back to life, what has died within me. What died, when I lost you.

    I think these letters are helping me. It comforts me to know I’m writing these just for you, and that they are meant for no one else. That no one else will be reading them, or so I hope.

    You were always my secret keeper, and I guess at least that hasn’t changed.

    You asked me once, why I never told my close friends anything too private, or personal. I tried to explain that it was because you were the only source I ever felt the desire to confide in. That once my words were spoken to you, I felt so free and light that I saw no purpose in relaying anything to anyone else.

    You kept me light for so long, I guess it’s only fair that I feel so heavy inside now.

    Maybe it’s life’s way of keeping balance.

Until next time,

Your B