Tag: Letters

On Learning of Duplicity. An Open Letter to Myself.

Dear –

Now that you’ve read his panicked revelatory message and the other woman’s stories that have contradicted all he ever told you; accept that your photos, his gifts and messages have taken on a whole new meaning. Take time to adjust to this new reality and accept that he took all your love and in return gave you back a handful of dust.

Nobody died. Nobody was maimed. Nobody bled. The trembling will stop, the panic and anxiety will subside and the white noise of revelations will cease and this too will turn to calm.

Accept that this is a terrible thing to have happened but, crucially, forgive yourself for trusting because there is no point to love without trust: the two hold hands.

Don’t think back over events which now have skewed and alternative meanings; those times when he had you both in the same room; the times when he fluently lied; so eloquently, so painlessly and the times when he made you think you were mad for ever suspecting him of being less than the good person he claims he wants to be.You will never see him again. You will go on to do wonderful things without him in your life.

Those memories you are torturing yourself with are nothing but neurons and synapses; little beats of electricity that mean nothing. They are pictures from a film that has simply ended and in time their colours will turn to monochrome before fading away completely. In time, his importance to you will shatter and you will realise you picked him out of a small crowd and gave him more attention than he ever deserved.

As Edna St. Vincent Millay said, ‘I shall forget you presently, my dear…I shall forget you…I would indeed that love were longer-lived.’ You fell in love with a fiction and so remember if you must things in this way: remember being spun in the water under a starry sky, remember the anticipation of weekends away, the kisses and secrets shared, the carefully created tokens of affection you made and gave him. But realise now that all of that has perished so place the remnants in the grave and bury it with your sympathy, your patience, your concern, your counsel and your love.

And if in those cold, long hours of the night, the spectre of his body and all he once told you and made you believe won’t fade away into dreams, think of Carl Sagan who noted that we all live out our lives on a mere dot, on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam. All of this is just a blip in the timeline of all our lives and he deserves no more of your time and tears.

x

Posted on by nelsonandemma 0

Glass Eye

Apologies in advance for the language in this one!

Yeah I know it’s a cliché to be writing letters like this just before I exhale my last breath but I no longer give a shit. There’s some stuff you need to know. Not because you really need to but because I know that that lame arsed nosy bitch of a sister-in-law knows and is probably twitching at home just waiting for me to scuttle off my mortal coil finally so she can get that womble sized ass of hers out of the door as fast as that fucker Usain Bolt to tell you. So I better get in there first.

Here’s the thing. I fecking grew to hate your Ma during that last decade we were together. You had probably already figured that out. Maybe the shredded photos you found all over the carpet like a charity shop rug gave it away, or the punched hole in the garage door after I wanted to hit her so bad I had to take an aim at that instead – I was never that kind of man to hit a woman and you better not be either. Possibly it was the fact those fuckers at social services came round cos some knob end teacher of yours thought we were neglecting you cos your uniform looked a bit dirty. God I could have punched that woman straight in the face; right on the bump of that crone’s nose of hers for that. The only reason you smelled dear boy was cos you never freaking thought to wash unless we told you to and your Ma was too busy messing around with those losers down the club to notice clothes weren’t getting washed. And no it wasn’t my place to do it. I made the money. She made the house run. Or was supposed to. Lazy bitch couldn’t even do that right.

So yea, I guess I’m also writing this an apology. I’m sorry we were lame. I’m sorry we were always screaming at each other and basically forgot you were there. I hope this gets to you in time but I’m not even sure where to send this fucker to – I’m guessing you are still in the same home you ended up in 5 years ago? I’m not sure as I haven’t heard from you for awhile.  Your aunt’ll know though. Yea, she’ll know alright.

So anyway, back to the confessional. Not that I want you to think badly of her but basically your Ma was a whore. If it wasn’t that Dan she was hitching her skirts up for, it was Chris behind the bar, Gary who ran the chippie; I think she even boned the neighbor once and I swear to God he must’ve been about 50 or so at the time and she only in her early 30s.

I used to ask her why but all she would throw back in my face was that I ignored her. Spent too much time with my guys down the pub when I wasn’t working. Wasn’t giving her enough attention. Bull. If she’d made more effort I’d have been home every night but what kinda man wants to come home to a stinking cesspit of a home, a woman who smells of some cheap shit cider and who needs to wax her top lip;  a kid that needs its nappy changing and egg and chips on the table? Well, that fucker Gary clearly liked it and eventually it was Gary she left me for. Yea, so not only had you been taken off her hands but she kicked me out in all.

Thing is, Ben, I’ve never been the type to just walk away from a situation. I can’t do it and I sure in hell hope you’re like that too. So for six months I lived in this shitty little bedsit opposite my actual home. I could see what your Ma and Gary got up to through the window most times. She sure did look a lot happier and that twisted my guts to see. I noticed a bit of a swell to her belly and used to get all fired up at the thought of her having that prick’s baby – but turns out she was putting on the lard, you know what I mean? Some chicks do that when their happy. It’s like they feel they no longer need to make any effort. Just be aware of that Ben. Don’t ever let a girl think you’ve only got the eye for her; she’ll pack on the pounds faster than an addict shoots up.

Anyway, there was this one evening when I was mighty sore at the sight of them coming back late drunk. They couldn’t even wait to get in the front door before she’s pulling at his belt and spreading her legs for him…in the doorway! The freaking doorway!  I hope isn’t too shocking for you Ben but you need to hear it all. Anyway, I’d had a binge with the guys and like they say, that fecking red mist just come down on me all of a sudden. I pushed myself out of that tatty sofa your Gran gave us (you remember it? The one with that shit paisley pattern and covered in fag holes?) and stumbled down the stairs and into the street. I could hear her screaming before I even rolled the first punch but feck me it felt good.

I don’t really remember what I did except I woke up in hospital in cuffs and the fucking pigs all over me like ants. Anyway, you know what I did and I’m sorry, I really am but what’s mine is mine and that fucker Gary had no right, HAD NO RIGHT. She was mine; we hadn’t even got a fucking divorce or nothing. So it turned out, as you know, I did in Gary and your Ma followed him a few days later. The only good thing to come out of this situation, Ben was the fact they asked me if there was anything I wanted from home. So I asked for your Ma’s glass eye. You may not have known this but your Ma was blind on her left side and used this glass monstrosity for reasons of vanity. That thing freaked me out. I once came across it once in a glass in the bathroom. I wasn’t too happy about that Ben so I will admit to teaching your Ma a lesson about that. I only did that now and again when she needed reminding how things were meant to be in the house, you know?

They gave it to me in a box after her funeral. The daft pricks had wrapped it in tissue paper – like it was something precious and fragile! As soon as I got back to my cell, I remember taking out a teddy of yours I brought with me (it kinda smelled of you still…yeah I know…surprising) and ripped out one of the eyes and replaced with your Ma’s. It looked kind a freakish and all but did the trick.

Ben, you need to know that those bastards who keep me in here want to tell you what I used to do with that teddy but I think you need to hear it from me. Some nights I’d stick pencils up its butt and twist until the stuffing started to come out. Other times I scrub the fucking toilet bowl with it until the shit stains looked like a crap hair dye job. Other times they found me smashing it against the wall of my cell.

They want to give you the teddy when I go, but can you do me this one favour? Stick it in my coffin will you? I want to be cremated with that bitch and you.eye

I love you.

Dad

Posted on by nelsonandemma 0