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Cure for Writer’s Block #008 – My Unsent Letter

Cure for Writer’s Block #008 – My Unsent Letter

I’ve been thinking about this for awhile. What better way to get spark your creativity than to write an unsent letter to someone? That’s your task for today. Write a letter to someone you know, or even don’t know, or to something important to you. Write a letter that will never be sent – well maybe only on your death bed. Who will you send it to? What will it say? There are no rules, there is no right or wrong way to write it. Just do it.

So, for you, I am going to do things a little different and share with you, my unsent letter. I know that my letter isn’t well composed, and that was the point. When I sat down to write it, it all just sort of poured out of me…who knew I had all that in there?

Unwritten letter

I am going to warn you, it is rather long, and I cried while writing it, but here it is.

My Unsent Letter

To my best friend,

Sometimes when I think about ‘us’ it makes me sad, other times I’m blissful. The nights spent sitting in the park, talking about nothing just so that we could watch the sunrise together are some of the best memories I have. Your leg resting against mine, your arm around my shoulder as you told me that everything would be all right made me believe that I could trust again. And I did, and to some degree, I still do.

Those nights we spent cuddled together in your tiny bed, laughing and talking and snoring were comforting, and sweet and unforgettable. I always held your hand on the way home, and you always made me breakfast in the morning. We would sit together in our favorite bar, after classes, just the two of us with me running my fingers through your hair as you sat next to me. There was a time when you wouldn’t sit anywhere else except by my side. I know she changed that, and I’m sorry. I miss the feel of your beard on my fingers, the feels of nails gently sliding over your scalp. I miss it all. I miss the time we spent together. I miss jokes we shared that no one else understood.

I tried to convince myself that our friendship was normal, that these feelings I had were for my best friend. I tried to convince myself that your hand on my back when I woke up was an accident. I tried to convince myself that the looks you would give me outside our favorite restaurant were friendly. Honestly, I don’t know if they were.

But that all changed when you kissed her. You know who I’m talking about – you kissed her, and I was standing right there. For the first time in my life, I knew what it was like to have a broken heart. I didn’t talk to you for two days, and that was the only real fight we had ever had. You tried to talk to me, to get me to tell you what was wrong, but how was I supposed to tell you that my heart was broken? That I cried all the way home that night?

Later, you told me you didn’t like her. That you were drunk and ‘just did it’. I understood, and I got over it. Then you kissed her. It was getting easier to ignore my feelings. Then you found the girl I called Pebbles. She was easier for me to handle because she lived an hour away and didn’t get to see you that often. You hated calling her, you hated going out with her. Instead, you would hang out with me. You would text me and invite me out to dinner. We would laugh and joke at a small table at that small Italian restaurant near your uncle’s house. We would go to the movies.

You, me and Pebbles had gone to show in the city, and you invited your brother. He came and we had a blast. Pebbles had to sit next to your brother, because you choose to sit next to me. Pebbles told your brother that night that she knew she didn’t have a chance with you. She couldn’t compete with me. I wonder what your brother said to her. I wonder what else your brother said to you.

We still talked and hung out, but then I moved away. It was supposed to be my chance to finally spread my wings – to find my calling. The only thing I found was that I missed you – that I had dreams about you. I would get calls late at night from our friends asking when I was coming home. That you had gotten drunk again and they had to put you in a cab to get you home. You stopped calling.

I came back, and for a while, it was like old times, and it was great. And then I met someone. Someone that I wanted to be the one. When I finally told you about him, sitting in our favorite bar, you looked crushed. At least I think you did. You asked me if I wanted to marry him, and I said yes. Like a fucking idiot, I said yes. I thought I meant it.

He ruined my life.

I should have felt us slipping away then, when I uttered those words to you staring into my pint glass, I should have recognized it. I should have done what the little voice inside my head was telling me.

I wouldn’t let you meet him because I knew you would hate him. I knew you would tell me what I didn’t want to hear. I shut you out. I’m sorry for that. When you tried your hardest, I wouldn’t listen. He was in my ear telling me things that weren’t true, and I listened. I hate myself for that.

Then you started dating her, and you didn’t tell me. I found out by accident. I may be weak, and shy and confused but I never lied to you. She is a vulture. I didn’t like her from the start. She’s manipulative. She’s told us the stories, and you were sitting next to me for them as I ran my fingers through your hair, but apparently you don’t remember. She hovered around you until you had no other choice. She backed you into more than one corner, after making sure that she always had a way out. Now what? Now you’re confused and can’t take it anymore.

I want to tell you that things could have been different. I want to tell you that things can still be different, but I will take your friendship, and your smile over anything. I want to tell you to start over, to move and begin anew, but I know that you wont. I know that you’ll choose her, and bring her with you while I will fade into the past. I’m okay with that now. I just want you to be happy. But I want you to know that I loved you. That I think I still do, I’ve just gotten better at hiding it.

I’m sorry I didn’t say it earlier. I’m sorry I still haven’t said it to you. I’m sorry for all the missed opportunities and all the lost time. I’m sorry you’re in the situation you’re in now. I’m sorry that I can’t help. I’m sorry. And most of all, I’m sorry that I never came right out and asked you how you felt. I’m sorry that I’m too scared to send this to you, and find out the truth. I’m sorry for a lot of things, and I’m sorry that you’ll never read this.


Now, let’s see what you got.

About Bianca

Bianca Dean is a writer from NYC. She's specialized in writing, marketing and graphic design.