Dear Mark

Dear Mark
How are you?
Last time I wrote to you I said it would be one of many letters. I was wrong. This is the last time I will write to you. I have realised some things, mostly that I don't need to hold onto you. You are long gone and I am OK with that.  I suppose I forgive you.  I forgive you for abandoning me when I needed you most. I survived and I am better off.

Good luck out there

Bea

Dear Honeybear

Dear Honeybear
How are you?
I know how you are.  I can guess you had a bad day and this is why you reacted so badly when i expressed distaste at being called sexist pet names.

Let me set you straight on something important:
I knew, way back, we were not suited.
For many reasons.
For example, I am much more self aware than you, less one dimensional than you, just as sensitive but not as wet.
I know we are not the same and who says we have to be?  Surely if you wanted friends exactly the same as yourself you would just talk to yourself?

Life is varied and rich.

I am rich and varied.

I swear, I play rough, I like banter.

I can also be kind, gentle and tender.

I choose to see the good in people.

I am trying really hard not to tell you to go fuck yourself.  I will say this though.

Only three colours on your christmas tree???  LIVE A LITTLE!

Take care!

Bea

Dear Mark

Dear Mark
How are you?
I know this will be one of many letters I write to you, just because there was so much unsaid.  It might get ugly.  I can't apologise for that.  It is what it is.

Are you alive?  
That is all I can think to write right now.  I might be tired or scared or it's just too sad to think about and dredge up.  
It is enough for now.

Regards,

Bea

Dear Jack

Dear Jack
How are you?
I was very nervous at the prospect of meeting you, I had the shakes.  The more it matters, the more nervous you are and it mattered a lot to me.  I suspected I wasn't going to be what you expected, whether that was my insecurity shining through or just me being realistic, i don't know.  I never really asked why, although I wanted to.  Why?  To be quite honest being more than friends wasn't an option for me, right from the beginning.  I did think you were lovely, but long distance does not work, I know this from experience. You were hopeful and I got caught up in the romance.  I've written a very conspicuous blog post about you, about how it hurt.  It doesn't hurt as much now.  I do wish I had spoken up at the time.  That still bothers me.  I was a little bit in love with you.  That had much to do with how crap things were at home, you were so nice.  The day after we met I was so low, so upset.  All the way home I struggled not to cry and even when i got home I had to wait before bursting into tears.  I took it to heart.  Isn't it strange how we start out with our heads on straight, no illusions, we know what is going to happen and yet when it does we still break down and cry and mourn.  It's as if we are playing a role of the heartbroken and rejected.  Projection.  
I remember the first time I saw you.  I was walking down the stairs to the platform and there you were in your big coat.  I saw you before you saw me.  My heart was pounding, like I said I was very nervous.  

I couldn't imagine kissing you.  I could imagine loving you and being gentle and soft but never passionate, mad, wild sex.  I think that has more to do with my view of love and sex being separate entities.  Something I am working on.  It's worse in a way.  I was letting you into my heart, much easier letting someone into my bed.  Epiphany alert!

I showed you only what I thought would appeal to you.  I was wrong to assume.  I wonder if you knew how upset i was.  I was going to ask if it was me or if it was like you said, how you weren't ready for a new relationship.  The trouble with that is being right is worse than not knowing.

I said there would be no "poor me".  I fear I am slipping into that role now.  I have a pain in my chest, a solid slab, because this makes me uncomfortable.  It makes me want to roar at the injustice of it.  Whether i sound like a victim or not I am going to say it.  I didn't want you but still you rejected me.  I shouldn't have let you.  But I am nice, so I did and now I can't undo it.  It's fucking annoying.  Really fucking annoying.  A lesson for me to speak up, to be  heard and not to allow myself to be carried along on someone else's dreams.

Ok.  Sorry about that. That sounded petty and spiteful.  I can't be nice all the time.  I still want to push you over into a muddy puddle when you are wearing your best clothes.  Let me try and pull it back.

I still think you are lovely.  Hearing you speak is a special treat.  I miss talking properly.  I don't know if we ever will again.  I fear we are doomed to facebook friendship.  However, I know we are how we are meant to be and if events had happened differently we would still be where we are now.  There is more to come.  And it is all good.  I would like to say I am better off knowing you than not but i'm not sure I mean it.  I can be a better friend to you if you let me or if i let myself.  We could be better friends?  I don't know.  I am finding it hard to end on a positive,  gracious note.  Let me try again.

I hope you find what you are looking for.  I hope you are happy with yourself because that is the most important thing, with that in place everything else will follow.  I hope we get to hug again, your hugs were lovely.  You are warm.  You are one of the most genuinely beautiful men i have met.  What I wrote in my first message to you still stands, in the spirit of universal love.

big hugs

Bea

Dear Masio

Dear Masio
How are you?
It makes me very sad that we don't talk anymore.  It makes me even sadder that I seem to be toxic to your state of mind and happiness.  I say this in goodwill, i know it happens without malice and I don't bring it up in reproach.  I want to explain my view of the world we shared.

It is very hard being black and white in a world full of greys.  If it's not said, it is not to be.  If things are to change, things need to be discussed.  That is how it works in my mind.  I was of the understanding that we were friends. Perhaps friends with possibilities.  I was foolish.  I felt rushed.  It takes me a while.  I was wary.  I really loved your company, being around you, talking to you on the telephone, you as you were.  We larrrrfed.  We held hands.  You have lovely hands.  I liked watching you hold a roll up. I fell against you when I hugged you goodbye and that, it turned out, was the last time I saw you.  It's like a bad food experience.  I made you ill and now you can't tolerate me for long, if at all.  It's a shame.  I wish with all my heart we could meet and talk and drink lots of coffee in a train station.  Nothing sinister. 

Speculation is a little pointless and cliched but what would have happened if we had met now instead of then? I am different.  It's been four years.  I often wonder about bumping into you on the street.

Dear You

Dear You
It's been a while since I wrote.
There are things I want to tell you
Things I forgot to say.
Things I never got the chance to say.
Things I was too shy to say.
Things you might know but might not.
There is no agenda, no malice, no poor me.
Just me
And You.

Lots of Love

Bea