I'm Hearbroken, Fuck You




I’m a love letter writer. For two years, I came home after work, cooked, cleaned, put the kids to bed, and answered the call of the world’s lovers, who beckoned me on a website in which I offered my services.

 It was my favorite time of the day, and it usually took more than four hours for me to put feelings down on paper, like those of young man in South Africa who admired, from afar, a girl he saw every day at recess; and a paralegal in South Carolina who could no longer physically commit to boyfriend who was off to jail but promised him forever her heart; or the father in California who'd never shared a loving word with a daughter who was graduating from college.  Their plight inspired me to capture their tone, style and feelings on paper.

In the next several weeks, I will publish an ebook, Write a Love Letter: It’s Not Old-fashioned, It’s Vintage Soul-Sharing, a how-to on writing your own letters, a book that will give you tips and recommendations for how to put your own unique, mysterious feelings on paper

And so I leave with you  traces of the greatest love stories I've immortalized on paper.

Here's the "Fuck You Heartbreak" letter:

Cary,

I’m heartbroken, and you did it. What’s even more shocking is how you moved on so quickly, as if our four years of great lovemaking, wine making, a move cross country, and all the medical drama, parent drama, and daily drama we shared wasn’t worth a shit. Fuck you!

I’ll be fine someday.  You won’t, ever, because no one gets to move on in five minutes.  No one-- not even you: We’re all haunted by the ghosts of our fuck-ups, and you fucked up. You’re a cold, heartless bitch, and I tried to tell you that in the kitchen when you begged me to fight for you, acting as if there wasn’t another woman in the picture already -- a woman you dated while we were in love, a woman you “loved” when you pledged your love to me in that letter you gave me on our four-year anniversary, a woman you dared to bring along in an outing with my nieces, a woman you brought to our house and fucked. Fuck you!

You lied to me and enjoyed it! I know that now, but I don’t regret believing in you, loving you, wanting you.  My sympathy for your past -- a mother who committed suicide, a father who drove her to it, and a lover who became your new mother -- broke my heart, made me want to heal you, protect you, and take care of you.

I’ll be fine. You can have your new life, your new woman, your new freedom. Run with it, choke on it, be happy with it, and… Fuck you!

 Grace

No comments:

Post a Comment