Dead Letters, Doubts, and Immature Videos

Last week I spent a lot of time writing dead letters. I can remember writing these from the time I was young enough to both have feelings and string together words in a somewhat coherent fashion.

I've written dead letters to:

People I have a crush on.

People I have been in or am currently in a relationship with.

President's of the US of A.

My family.

Co-workers.

Friends.

People who have inspired me.

People who have hurt me.

People I don't even know.

People who make me feel insecure.

People I am too afraid to talk to.

People not yet born.

Most likely you.

And most often, myself.

(I also have a vague memory of writing one to the “Candy Makers of the Universe.”)

According to my current crush, a man named “Google”, a dead letter is: a letter that is undeliverable and un-returnable.

I write these letters so I can express how I really feel without the consequences of the other person knowing. Whether it be saving myself from embarrassment, not really meaning what I am presently feeling or unwillingness to officially commit a class D felony under United States Code Title 18, section 871 (thank you, Google, you dashing young thing). I write these letters so as not to harbor any unnecessary feelings. Sometimes I write the same letter over and over again to the same person, in hopes that one day I will be able to adequately say what I really mean. And sometimes I write these letters because it is the only thing that quiets the screaming of my own voice inside my head.

Last week I spent hours one evening sitting at my desk writing lists, crossing items off lists, re-writing items, writing down goals, writing down hopes, writing down poems I remembered, writing down poems that don't make sense and mostly writing a huge pile of dead letters. The intention is to read each letter one more time then burn them and never write that person another letter ever again.

I admit if someone had been spying on me that evening it is likely they would have questioned my mental sanity. By the time I was finished, half the floor was scattered with incomprehensible, tear-stained scribblings. I did my best to exclude any use of the word “hate” but I'm pretty sure I used every synonym and possible replacement. However, at the end of each letter I made sure to write a wish for that particular person. For some, I wished them peace. For others, I wished them truth. But for one, I wished she would learn how to be a good person. No matter how hard I tried I just couldn't bring myself to find any sort of positivity in this letter.

In a world that hinges on negativity I tend to put effort into cultivating positivity in most situations. I believe that you can be depressed while smiling and standing up straight, but I also believe it would be advanced. So I really try very hard to look for the light in the dark. But, when it comes to this person, I cannot even be thankful for all the invaluable lessons I learned from the pain she caused me.

What does that say about me? I can generally talk and walk a pretty good “power of positivity” path. So why can't I be the good person I spend time nurturing when I think of her? Of course I have a long way to go on the path of turning into the type of person I eventually hope to be and maybe this is part of that particular journey.

This isn't going to be one of those really profound entries, where I talk about a revelation I had or some sort of completion. Truly, this is more of a question.

How far have I really come on the road of personal progress if I cannot find one nice thing to wish for this girl?

Am I a good person if I openly admit that I don't believe there is potential in this person?

Is it weird if I say out loud that I believe she is the worst parts of who I am in one terrifyingly dangerous package?

Do I really believe that there is good in every single person, just waiting to be nurtured and begging to be let out?

It took me a few days to write this down and build up the courage to post it. I worry that admitting these less than kind feelings proves something about me that I am terrified to be true. I realized this morning that while there may be parts of me that need work, the important part is that I am paying attention enough to know. My teachers would say to spend more time meditating on loving kindness. To hold this person's image in my mind and send them love and light whenever possible. 

That seems to be a problem.
It's never possible. 

So there it is. My truths. My doubts. You don't have to agree with them because, to be honest, I don't know if I agree with them myself.

XO

A

And now to off-set that little bit of real life, I'd like to share with you the greatest video in the world. Thank you, Joe Boxer and K-Mart for this gem. No, really. Thank. YOU.