Rach,

I'm in too deep. It happened too fast. I don't know what you want from me. You tell me one thing one day, hint at something else the next. I can't play the game anymore. I can't. I'm sorry.

Yours always,

Lor

Rach,

Last night you came around..a lot later than you said you would. Guess you stopped to smoke some shit with some guy you know. Then you showed up to my place, didn't even look at me once, hardly spoke two words to me, took my money, and bailed right after Bloomill's set. Because the whole situation was "weird" to you. I don't understand. You talked to me through text message all night. Not once did you look at me. And then, come end of the night, you can't even answer a simple question. And the only thing I can think is that this is just as hard for you as it is for me.

Maybe you noticed, maybe you didn't: I've lost weight. Between the depression, new meds, and oral surgery, I just don't eat. I have panic attacks and severe highs and lows. I can't control the word vomit, I have no fucking filter. I don't know what to do with myself. I don't sleep. I don't eat. It's getting worse.

Why can't you even look at me?

Yours always,
Lor

Rach,

It's been two days of us being on good terms and, trust me, I couldn't be more thrilled. I love being able to talk to you and put up stupid pictures of one another (I will win) and idiotic links and videos. I missed that more than most things. And I'm looking forward to this weekend, no hidden intentions. Actually, my intentions are well known. No, I'm not over you. Yes, I want to be with you. Yes, I know you don't want to hear it. Yes, I will wait for the rest of my life if I have to. There has been something...big between us since the second we met. That doesn't happen to just anyone. Maybe I'm a complete idiot, but you were more than just my girlfriend. You mean the world to me.

What's shitty is that I can pinpoint the exact moment where I screwed this all up. You stopped trusting me. I never, ever meant to hurt' you. I am so sorry.

Yours always,
Lor

Rach,


We talked last night via Facebook e-mail. I'm glad we did. If nothing else, it's just nice to hear from you. I have so much I want to say but I don't want to overstep my boundaries and I don't want to say something stupid while I'm drugged up like this. So, for now, I bide my time, in hopes that in some way you will forgive me. You let me read the poem you wrote. I'm glad you did.


I am so sorry Rachael. I am.


Yours always,
Lor

Rach,


In all my sorta fucked up, sorta high, ridiculous pain med glory, I was watching videos on YouTube. I came across this:





I have no Idea if that dance is good, but I like the song and I know you like the dance stuff and I guess I just liked that our common interests collided here. I hope you're doing well.


Yours always,
Lor

Rach,


Went to my new gynecologist today. She did the basic rundown of information: family history, questions about my vag, etc. The usual. Then the following conversation occurred:
Dr. Nancy: Are you in a relationship?
Me: Ye...no. (tears well up/choke) We broke up.
Dr. Nancy: (sad look of pity?) Aw, I'm sorry to hear that. How long did you date?
Me: (choke) A little over two months.
Dr. Nancy: I'm sure it's still hard.


She has no fucking clue. I wanted to punch her. And she's a nice lady. I shouldn't want to punch nice ladies, even though everything she touched me with was like an ice cube. Those two months though...they felt like two years. You were my everything. You still are. I want nothing more than to have you in my life.


On the plus side, she gave me Prozac and her e-mail so I can get her to up my dose or change my prescription or whatever I need even while I'm at school. 


Yours always,
Lor

Rach,


I saw your post on Kate's wall. Both of them, but I'm talking about the George Harrison lyrics (no, I didn't Google that). I'm not really sure how I'm supposed to take them, or if I'm supposed to take them at all. God, I'm so sorry Rachael. I never meant it to happen this way. I keep thinking back to that first fight and how you cut yourself and we broke up. I never wanted that. I didn't know what I was doing. It kills me to know that this is all my fault. We'd still be okay if I hadn't tried to manipulate you into talking to me by hurting you.


I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
A million times over, I am sorry. Give me a chance to show you.


Yours always,
Lor

Rach,


I woke up this morning before my doctor appointment and checked Facebook. I saw that I had an inbox message and my heart again jumps into my throat even though I'm sure it's not from you because it never is. But to my complete surprise, it is though. I deserve that, I know I do. I wish that I could take back everything I said to you. I know I hurt you. You don't deserve that. I let this get out of hand.


Here's this shitty part: I can't fix it unless you let me. And right now, you won't let me (not that I blame you). I've been truly terrible to you. I will make it up to you in some way.


Oh, and I realize that that song from yesterday..the part about Daddy being an asshole? 
"Daddy was an asshole, he fucked you up, built the gears in your head,/
now he greases them up./ And no one paid attention when you just stopped eating./ "Eighty-seven pounds!" and this all bears repeating." 
That's not what I was talking about.


It was more or less this part:
"Tell me when you think that we became so unhappy,/ wearing silver rings with nobody clapping./ When we moved here togehter we were so dissappointed,/ sleeping out of tune with our dreams disjointed./ It killed me to see you getting always rejected,/ but I didn't mind the things you threw, the phones I deflected./ I didn't mind you blaming me for your mistakes,/ I just held you in the doorframe through all of the earthquakes./ But you packed up your clothes in that bag every night,/ and I would try to grab your ankles (what a pitiful sight.)/ But after over a year, I stopped trying to stop you from stomping out that door,/ coming back like you always do. Well no one's gonna fix it for us, no one can./ You say that, 'No one's gonna listen, and no one understands.'/ So there's no open doors and there's no way to get through,/ there's no other witnesses, just us two."


Again, I realize that you hate when it seems like I can only say things to you in song lyrics or pieces of poems. But this is true. I never minded any of it. I just need some time to figure it all out. 


Yours always,
Lor

Rach,


Like I said, there will always be songs and streets that remind me of you. But this song is one that cuts close to the bone for me. It's heartbreaking and true and it sums up everything I've thought since we started dating. Your past is your past and I get that you have things you don't want to tell me. I understand that much. I tried to understand too much, and you weren't ready for that. I see it now. So, hey. Listen to this song. Tell me what you think, if you'd like. Tell me to shove it. I deserve it. I'd rather have you in my life telling me to shove it than not in my life at all.





Okay, so maybe it's not the best sung song you've ever heard. But take a look at the lyrics. Because that's the important part. I know you hate when I quote lyrics because "they mask what I truly want to say". But sometimes I can't just say what I mean. 


Yours always,
Lor

Rach,


I keep thinking back on our relationship, and thinking about how stupid I was about this sex stuff. I shouldn't have held back. I wanted you, I really did. I still do. I just don't know how to show it without looking like an idiot or sounding dumb. I cared so much about what you thought about me and I wanted things to work for us.


God, the number of times you were half-naked...completely naked in my bed. It drove me crazy but I didn't know what to do or how to act. Now, I'd give anything for that back. The one time that really stuck with me was the time we were at NJani's and you had your foot in my crotch and your hands on my tits. I wanted so badly to fuck you then and there. I wanted to go down on you, and stay their for hours. I wanted to spend my time kissing every inch of you, memorizing you down to the last inch.


I wish I had, especially now, because I feel like the memories of you are slipping faster than I'd hope. I was so often flustered and unable to find the words to tell you how I felt but now they flow so freely from my apparently slow brain. I've been an idiot, from the beginning. I would give the world to go back and sweep you off your feet the way I should have and prove that I'm capable of being what you need.


But maybe I fucked up so badly that I'm passed a second chance. Maybe my second chance was you coming back to me after I broke up with you. I was so fucking stupid. I am sorry.


I can't write this anymore. It makes everything hurt and my eyes flood with tears.


Yours always,
Lor

Rach,


Two in one day, I guess I just have a lot to say. No rhyme intended, honest. I'm pretty sure that I've got carpal tunnel, or I will soon. I haven't stopped typing since we broke up. I'm either writing or trying to explain to people, as unbiased as possible, what happened between us and why I still have some faint traces of hope that we might be together one day. Maybe not even "together" together, but in each others lives. I miss so many things about you. Every song I hear, every road I drive on, every dream I have, and even the foods I eat (meals are few and far between, nothing tastes right anymore) remind me of you. Maybe this part of a typical breakup, not that there was ever anything typical or normal about us or our relationship, but I think that's what made us good together. I still believe that we are different. We're meant to be in each others lives. And I am so sorry I fucked that up.  If I could call you or contact you in any way, I would. And I would apologize a million times over. I know actions speak louder than words and it'd take a lot of time for you to forgive me for the things I've said and done (I have stepped so far out of line so many times..I let my temper get the best of me). Anything at all. I'm on my knees. But I guess I really am trying to just give you space and time. You're name came up on AIM today. It's taken every ounce of self-control to not message you. But I'm trying.


Yours always,
Lor

Rach,



It's been three days since we last spoke. I believe my last words to you were something along the lines of "Hit me, i know you want to! Just fucking hit me!" and "You're pathetic, Rachael!". You know that I immediately regretted it. I tried, in the only way I knew how, to contact you: via Facebook message. It was long and rambling but I didn't know what else to do or say. I realized, I think, just how bad I fucked up. I lost my temper and I shouldn't have. But I got scared and desperate at the idea of losing you. I should have just left this whole thing alone, let you come back to me if that's what you wanted. I'm not even mad about the drugs you did while we were together or the fact that you fucked Marina or kissed Sarah. Maybe I should have joined you, rather than trying to get you to stop the drugs. I realize it all now, no doubt, too late for any of it too matter.



This morning, I woke up in a panic realizing that the dream I had (you came to the apartment with your new boyfriend and he kept talking about how he had to fuck you with a condom on so that he didn't get ES...whatever the fuck that means. Then you came up to me, kissed me passionately, and told me everything was going to be okay. Then I woke up.) wasn't even close to real. 



Even little things, like laundry, remind me of you. I washed the two sweatshirts you brought back over (I couldn't stand to wear something the smelled like you. Just looking at them is hard enough.) and I checked the pockets and found your flash drive. I threw it into my computer, my imagination running wild at the thought of possible explanations or...anything really being on it. I think you just washed it and forgot about it though. It didn't work. 



I guess you're talking to Kate, she said you're doing okay. I'd rather hear this from you, but I won't push it. Not now. It's now what you need. I hope you can one day forgive me. 



Yours always,
Lor