Letters to Luthien

Letters to My Future Bride



Don’t keep bringing this up. Don’t tell me I’m the problem. Don’t make me dredge up those feelings, or orbit in the unending sentiments. Don’t make me wallow in that anger or that hurt. I’m trying to bury it, for everyone’s sake. If only you could be in my shoes, see what I see, feel what I feel. The world would look so different. Your mouth would drop.

Don’t deny me something I’ve looked forward to my entire life. Don’t tell me to settle for less, lay aside everything I’ve worked for, saved up for, dreamed for. Don’t make me reenter that torture chamber. You may as well take a shotgun and blow out my insides. I’ll point to the place where it hurts — so familiar I could draw a map blindfolded, just beneath the rib cage.

Don’t tell me I can’t get what I want until I don’t want it anymore. Don’t tell me that my begging, pleading desperation for someone who complements me and understands my struggle is a sense of entitlement.

Don’t tell me someone is a new creation when memories and consequences remain.

Don’t encourage me to settle. Don’t coax me back from hoping love will be everything I hope it to be. Don’t tell me it’s not a big deal when all I’ve ever told is that it is. Don’t tell me I bring it up too much. It’s part of who I am. Don’t make me betray myself.

Don’t make me feel guilty for choosing not to adopt scars and ghosts that aren’t mine. Don’t insist it’s my obligation to accept regrets because I have none, for the sake of spreading them more evenly.

Don’t assume just because that is a roadblock in pursuing someone that it is the only one. Maybe I just don’t love them.

Don’t criticize. I need assurance and affirmation. The world laughs at me, tells me I am not wholly man, not wholly grown.

Don’t ignore or invalidate my hunger, or the strength and dedication it’s taken to restrain it. Don’t point fingers at me if I bow my head with the weight of despair that I am alone and will never find what I seek.

Don’t rob me of my peace, or demand I surrender it. Don’t remind me how alone I am. Don’t plunge me back into that maddening cloud of thought. Don’t insist it’s different.

Don’t bring up the unfaithful. I am hurt and angry and frustrated with them. Don’t mention those who were complicit; I want to hurt them like they hurt me.

Don’t assume I don’t want to talk about it. I do. I am restraining my natural impulse to protect others.

Don’t. Please.

November 18, 2012 Posted by | Loneliness, Purity, Uncategorized | 3 Comments