My Dear Darling
I truly believed that we would never communicate again. After my most heinous of betrayals fourteen and a half years ago I left myself in no doubt that you and I had spoken our last words. Then at 1:25pm on Wednesday 18th September 2013 your hand reached out and you found me. I can be so precise because it was such a momentous moment in my life that I recorded in it my diary. The emotions of that day are very real to me and my heart quickens just thinking of them. No doubt they will be the topic of a future post but now I would like to share how I perceived you and hoped to find you over my fourteen and half years in the wilderness. After what I did I wanted to know that you were happy. Even though I had broken both of us and destroyed what we had together I wanted to see you thrive and I tried to take my pleasure from afar knowing that you at least had found contentment and satisfaction.
There were several ways I did this. Every adult on the planet has no doubt Googled some ex lover or childhood crush at some time in their lives. I did this to you and found some scant details of your life. I saw your academic record which we both know is quite impressive. More recently I found out that an important member of your family had been in an accident. My heart leapt out to you. It was one of the only times, if not the only time, that I actively considered making contact. The first article I read on the matter left me with a distinct sense of foreboding and I was not sure they would survive. I was sick to my stomach that I couldn’t offer any support. It made me feel even worse to know that my making contact would only make matters worse. Therefore it was with no small level of relief that I read a second article and realised your family member would recover, although they would not enjoy the same level of health they had prior to their accident. It was cold comfort however knowing that I daren’t make contact to help ease your distress. When I could find no new news on you or your family I would take solace in the online real estate section from your city. There I would peruse the nicer homes and look at the pictures and imagine us standing there side by side. A silly little affectation I know but it brought me no small level of happiness.
In reality the best that I could hope for, in my eyes, was to live vicariously through you. I knew I would never know true happiness again after my destruction of what we had. However I desperately wanted you to find it. If I couldn’t speak to you again then that would have to be enough. Now that we converse daily, often multiple times a day, in a variety of manners and on a variety of devices I have grown more greedy and selfish in my desires. Vicarious now does not seem nearly enough. I of course still want you to be happy, only now I wish to be an active part of your life in every sense of the word.
My darling, know that I love you with all my heart. Even though I was unspeakably cruel and hurtful I never stopped loving you and I never will. I could end this entry with “vicariously yours” but I shan’t. I just don’t want to believe that will be as good as it gets. Therefore I will end it as I have every other post thus far.
You Will Always Be My Darling
From Sir With Love
You briefly mentioned before that you had searched for me online over the years. This still astonishes me. Never in my wildest of imaginations did I think you would ever look for me or try to contact me ever again. I thought you despised me, hated me, and purposely cut me out of your memories and your heart. Harsh as it sounds, I believed I got what I deserved. I thought I was the world’s biggest fool. A friend’s opinion was that I had been used. That was like a dagger to my heart. Even though we’ve discussed this at length, it still hurts to write about. I think of the words and I am dissatisfied. I struggle to express my thoughts and feelings on this subject, but I shall try.
For a long time I never looked for you, but I’m certain I wondered. I was scared to look for you; I was frightened of being rejected again. I had been broken, and I could never have offered an olive branch until I was healed enough to hold it. That obviously took a long, long time.
There were, of course, other extenuating circumstances besides our own that added to my break down. They added to the lengthy healing period I needed for myself. Those are not your fault. You have graciously accepted accountability for your actions, but that brings me no joy. Quite the contrary, it adds to my personal pain. I hesitate (again) in writing how I feel because I know what it does to you. Others may have felt validation or vindication in your feelings. I, however, do not. People have agency and make choices every day. You are no exception. You had the right to make decisions for your life. Unfortunately for me, I suffered from an acute sense of loss, rejection, betrayal – you name it. You are not responsible how I was affected. That is how life goes. We learn and grow from our own choices as well as the actions and choices of others. It is life. You are too hard on yourself.
I only recently started writing again, as you know. I’ve shared with you a recent piece that explains that I had only just begun to wonder, in depth, how you were. (See poem – “Wondering“). That same friend suggested that maybe I needed closure from you. It was a novel thought for me that was planted and started to flourish in my mind.
I found you quite unexpectedly. I sat and stared at the web page not daring to believe it was really you; it was my Sir (although I would never have dared to address you as my Sir). I found videos of you playing the piano. My heart constricted and held tight. I couldn’t breathe. I clicked play and was instantly transported to years gone by. I replayed it over and over again. I searched your face. I drank in your hands and your fingers. I stared at your hair remembering how it lay against your neck. I didn’t know how to feel or think. I didn’t know what to say or do. I kept any real emotions under strict lock and key. I felt a myriad of sensations -a vortex that spun my world around and kicked my feet out from under me.
Then I found those numbers. They mocked me from the page. There was a way to contact you! Was it really that simple? In today’s world I could text you. Did I want to? I was so confused. I purposely did not react for days. After the reality set it, I concluded that I wasn’t scared to contact you anymore. I had disassociated from that emotion. Once I realized and accepted that schism, I was ready.
And so it began – “Hello Mr. _____”
©2013 Darling and Sir