A Letter A Week

Dear You,

Writing to you have me peace of mind. When I got my first magazine cover I wrote to you that night. I talked about how nervous I was, how excited I was. I heard your voice telling me you were proud of me.

The first time one of scripts got picked up I wrote about us celebrating over a glass of champagne. I can’t even remember the name of the woman I went out with that night but I remember the exact words I wrote to you.

It was a couple of weeks before my grandfather died; maybe a month. The ambulance workers knocked on my door at 5am. They were at the wrong house. I write to you that morning telling you how scared I was. How I didn’t want him in pain but I wasn’t ready for him to go.

Some weeks weren’t that serious. I’d just write about how I miss your sex appeal. Your flirting, the phone sex and pictures. How you’re the best muse I’ve ever known.

Other weeks were easier. Calmer. Those were the weeks I could think clearly with my mind and know we weren’t any good for each other. Know there was no trust between us.

I hesitate to call them love letters because I’m not sure I love you. I just think its easy to talk to you. This past year I’ve spent so much time alone that writing to a ghost is easier than cultivating a new relationship.

Today will be my last time writing to you. I need to let you go in my heart. I let you go physically a long time ago but mentally you’re still here. Until I do that I’ll never be able to give another woman a real chance.

I’ll still think about you from time to time when I see your bestfriend post pictures of you on Instagram. I’ll still pray for your happiness. I just can’t use you as a standard anymore. You’re not the best woman I’ve ever known, just the most influential.

Love Always and Forever,

Demez

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