Letters To My Ex-Boyfriends: I Am Sensitive And I Think You Hated My Underwear

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This isn't about someone being good, or bad, or right, or wrong. This is about in the ways that matter, I don't think we are the same. And that makes me sad.

I don't know what the old you was like. I'm not sure I know the new you all that well either. But I think you are trying, and the beauty is in trying. We're all trying, in our own small ways. It's our grace, our way of reaching out beyond ourselves, and when I see that in you, in the way you move, I can see the goodness of who you are. I wish you could see how beautiful it is.

I was mad, so mad. I was mad I let you into my heart, and into my home, and when that scared me and I said please don't do this unless you mean it because it will hurt too much if you don't, you held me while I cried on your kitchen floor and said, "It's okay. Trust me. I'm not going anywhere." But then you became unsure, and it was like being held underwater and the air has been squeezed from your chest, your body limp. I was so sad. And I didn't know what to do; it was everything I was afraid of. I think I felt betrayed because I had shown you my vulnerability, because I had said, "Please don't hit me here." And listen, it's okay you changed your mind, it really is, it just hurt is all. It felt like you didn't want me anymore, regardless of whether that was true. And to be honest, I don't know if that is true or not. It doesn't matter, I'm not mad anymore.

But I think what is true, because you said it, is that you aren't sure if you are attracted to me. That's confusing, and I admit that hurts a little too, because I've been in your bed and you've been in mine, and I think what maybe neither one of us wants to say out loud is that if you aren't sure then you probably aren't. That doesn't make you bad or wrong, it's just what is, and that's okay. My heart's a little bruised, but who can blame it for wanting love? There's beauty in that too, I think, in wanting to be carried and asking to be loved, even when our darkest shadows tell us we won't, even when our voices are too hoarse to ask.

I don't know if you hear me when I say these things, I don't know if you understand my language. And that's okay too, but I can't get very close to you. The only thing that makes sense to me is to surround myself with kind, sensitive people who can give their compassion freely and easily; I need it like air, like sun, like water, like blood. It is my lifeblood. These are the people that keep me alive. I can't sustain casual friendships or relationships because I'm too thin-skinned and intense and prone to my feelings falling out of my mouth. So I am saying goodbye.

Goodbye, keep trying, keep breathing, goodbye, you will love, you will be loved, goodbye, goodbye, you will be so happy your heart will break open, goodbye, I don't want to do this, goodbye. Goodbye. I'm sorry. I will miss you.

I will remember you at the beach, sitting in our wetsuits on that log with Charlie sprawled across us, watching the waterfall, watching as the water split. It was a moment that temporarily halted time and space. It was worth it.

Keep reaching for the light, Zen Flower.

- Natalie