Dear Sarah, (sarahbear, in case you’re wondering)
My first few encounters with you were almost volatile. I didn’t make matters any better by sort of slamming you here on Insatiable Desire rather than trying to talk to you. You pushed that big red button that drives me insane. You called me a misogynist.
And what’s fucked up is I did exactly what I was pissed off at you about. I decided, based on the main encounter that stuck in my mind, that you were just some bitch who made snap judgments without trying to get to know someone. Read more…
I should probably be saying this to your face, but when it comes right down to it, I’m not sure I can. I honestly have no idea how you’ll react, and I don’t know that I can handle the outcome I expect. Which is a bunch of excuses, and “I’m sorry you feel that way.”s, and “All you ever think about is yourself.”s, and not a lick of interest in working it out.
I don’t even know where I’ve gotten this impression of you. I mean, my whole life, I’ve avoided conflict unless it was unavoidable with you. I think that’s partly because Dad used to get so mad when I hurt your feelings. Cause, you know, who cares if you hurt mine. Read more…
Like there’s more than one “parent” letter, there will be more than one sibling letter. I have a biological sister, and an adopted sister. I’ll write a letter to both.
What kind of vile creature follows meeting her biological sister for the first time ever with suing her? Seriously.
~Better Off Without You
I took a break from the letters because so many of them are negative. For me. Maybe not for everyone else who is/was participating. I have mentioned a time or two that my past was rough, right? But the negativity was getting inside my head, and bringing me down, and I needed to put it away for a while. However, the reigning theory is still that in order to get over it, you have to face it. So here’s another letter.
I’m not sure why I think about it as much as I do. I’m betting you don’t.
The more I think about it, the more I stop caring whether or not those of you who feel you were wronged by me in defense of the ex forgive me. Because not a single one of you cared about why I was acting the way I was. Not one of you took a second to step outside of yourselves for a moment, and figure out what was going on with me. You just deemed me a bitch, and moved on. Read more…
This is probably really crass, but it's perfect. I'm still laughing.
I’m doing this read-a-few-blog-posts-and-reviews-write-a-few-words-elsewhere-do-whatever-I-can-to-avoid-writing-this-letter thing that I do every time I decide to write about something that makes me uncomfortable. Or something I’m not altogether certain how I should (do?) feel about it. Or something I’m still confused about. Or something I’m sure will get a reaction I don’t want to hear. And this letter is all of the above.
I’ve briefly written about you here. I met you when I was in kindergarten. You were in ninth grade. And even back then, I knew enough to know your family was fucked up.
It all started with you and another ninth grader on our block trying to talk me into taking my shirt off. You asked once, and left it alone when I said no, but she (your ninth grader friend was a girl) was mean about it. And the only reason I didn’t want to was because I didn’t have any boobs! I didn’t feel like I shouldn’t, or like I was being bullied. I didn’t really question any of it. Friends that were my age were always ripping their clothes off. And hell, I still went swimming in just shorts sometimes. But your ninth grader friend had boobs, and I didn’t, and I was afraid that if you saw (as if you couldn’t tell through my clothes) I didn’t have any boobs, you wouldn’t want to be my friend anymore. Read more…