Dear R.P.H. (Letter #6)

I’m transcribing a series of handwritten letters I wrote, but never sent. Read the previous letters here.

Dear R-

Maybe if I talked to you, you would be happy to hear from me. You’d be the one to reach out, instead of me. You’d go after me. And I’d feel important. And you’d have great opinions on all these things. And you’d want to hear what I have to say about it.

God, you almost made me feel valuable. Did you know that? That’s what I’ll say when we finally cross paths. I’ll say, “For a second, you made me feel valued.” But never loved. Never safe. No, safety comes from security. It comes from knowing. And I never knew. God, why didn’t you let me. I would’ve loved you if you’d have shown me a sign. Given me something.

Instead I called you out on your passive aggressive dodges and you blew me off. Your apartment looks like a 80s crack den. That was petty. I’m sorry. Not if I hurt your feelings. I’m sorry my feelings for you resulted in pettiness. I am petty. Not pretty. Petty.

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