Dear [Redacted]…
I hope this letter finds you well, but please pardon the sand - this island is atrocious for this. Judging by the day cycles, about three months have passed. However, much like the beginning of our relationship, it feels like years.
Washing up here was chaotic, to say the least. Passed a lot of other interesting bloated souls in the undertow. They too had their stories, their mutual regrets, and their thinly veiled depression they hid under each gulp.
It got to a point where fighting the waves didn’t even make a difference…did I fight hard enough? Maybe my fear of drowning caused me to fear futility of fighting it?
I perpetually taste salt.
The island is habitable, but not conducive to myself. I don’t want, or intend to stay here - but I think I’m torturing myself a little bit. Even by writing this, I’m being a little masochistic. I wonder if you’d recognize me. I’m not entirely sure I recognize myself, heh. Would I recognize you?
There’s been a lot of reconciliation with myself, and trying to solve it all. I talked to a shrink. They were some help. It’s funny how an unbiased bit of guidance can put things in perspective, of which you’d think would be obvious.
It all just solidified everything I had feared. My problems were with myself, and my lack of communication - because I was fearful of the challenge to converse. I don’t know why. I could’ve talked to you about anything - fears, hopes, aspirations - and I knew that, yet still pulled away and became distant, out of fear. I hate myself for this. Now it feels like I have no one. Even when I’m around people, it all feels like frail and hollow conversation. Everyone is a stranger, and so am I.
I’m sorry, for everything I put you through. If I could, I would undo it all and have just talked to you. Dealt with any uncomfortable moment. Pushed through…preserved what we had.
But that was then. Now I’m dealing with it in my own way. Dealing with it by trying to be better. Focus on my goals. Writing you this.
Communication is difficult as I’ve realize I’m afraid of confrontation or people being upset with me - even to go as far as going into convolution by wrapping my thoughts in a metaphor. I have to be assertive and direct about my feelings for the rest of my life, or I’ll never be happy. So to that: I miss you, and I made mistakes. I hate that I never gave you a reason to stay, though I had plenty in that moment. I was so afraid. So afraid.
I know I run a huge risk by even contacting you to begin with, much less in this context. This could ruin the chance of us ever being friends at the worst. I…I just had to reach out, even though you’ll surely be repulsed by me. I know I am when I look in the mirror.
I’m sorry.
I hope this message finds you well…at least the you I knew, but I have the feeling, that much like how long this time passed has felt for myself, it may have been doubly for you - and you may be a new person. If so, please disregard, and live on.
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