Pieces of Me: Day Three

Dear Friend,

Hello, again.

Something you have to forgive yourself for:

I have to forgive myself for every time I let someone tell me I wasn't good enough. I have to forgive myself for letting other people govern my life.

But most of all, I have to forgive myself for hurting him. I never meant it, and if I could take it all back, I would.

I have to forgive myself; if I didn't, I wouldn't be able to survive.

Today, I'm sorry,

Erika

Pieces of Me: Day Two

I know, I know; it's been forever. So sue me.

Something you love about yourself:

I love my ability to reason through problems. I love that I can rely on the fundamentals of logic. And most of all, I love that because of these things, I am a very intelligent person and they will take me far someday.

I just have to make it to "someday."

Ready, set, go.

Tune in next time for more pieces of me.

Today, I don't think I can admit that you exist.

Erika

Pieces of Me: Day One

Dear Friend,

I'm going to give you 30 (maybe more) pieces of me. Feel lucky; I rarely give even this much to people.

Here goes Day One:

Something you Hate about yourself:

I distrust more easily than I trust; I feel more comfortable alone than any other way.

Tune in next time for more pieces of me.

Today, I love you.

Erika

Dear Friend,

This--- this is the beginning of my end.

I don't care who reads this, or who knows what the hell I'm talking about.

I want this documented for all--including me--to show, when all is said and done, what happened.

I will fall irrevocably in love. And I don't know where that will take me, or what my future will be. But I know it will happen.

I fear that it is already too late to stop it.

People say that your greatest gift is love; that we should embrace love. But then why is it so god damned hard to let someone else have your heart?!

Why do I fear love as if it were evil rather than part of your glory?

What do I do with all of these questions?

If I give in to this love (which god only knows, I don't believe I have a choice in the matter anymore), you have to promise me that you will watch over. That you'll keep me safe.

Safe--

God, that words sounds so peaceful, so perfect.

That's all I want:

to be safe.

Please,

Erika

Dear Friend,

Sooo you're supposed to be all-knowing, right?

How come when people walk into a stall in the bathroom and the toilet is soiled, they emit a sound of disgust and quickly go to the next stall?

Are they afraid that the poo will jump out and get them?

Do they believe that the feces is a big scary monster?

Why don't they just flush the damn thing and get on with their business?

Baffled,

Erika

Dear Friend, (7/30/10)

My last attempt to reach out to you was a joke, a half-assed attempt. I'm sorry. It'll take me a bit to get back into the swing of things.

I'm sitting here crying.

Why?

Because I'm sick of pretending that I don't want to be cared about. And I'm sick of pretending that I'm not as messed up as I really am.


I would like to be able to scream at you, "You did this to me! This is YOUR fault!"


But it's not.

Whose fault is it then?
Mine?




Is this all just a waste of time an energy?


Too many questions,
and not enough answers.


"Oh my dear, I can feel you here
Oh my dear, I can feel you everywhere."


Goodbye, I guess--
Erika

Dear Friend, (7/30/10)

I miss him already.




And how is this fair?!

-
Erika.