There is nothing that I can say that will make this pain any less. I have no great words of wisdom, no packaged phrases of trite sympathy. As much as I wish I could tell you something new, something to hold and help heal your heart, I don’t have that power.
But I hear you. I hear that hurt, that pain, like one long stretched note of a violin, sweet and aching, like icicles thrust into the center of lungs. I know that pain, that unyielding burn, a black hole behind your ribs, a constant reminder of lonesome.
I also know that nothing can make that pain stop except time. Thats what you may need right now, little chickadee. You need time to heal. Time to let yourself be alone, remain closed off, turn inward, understand what it is your searching for. I think that’s what all these men pick up on, and what you find yourself lost in. Searching. Seeking something to fill yourself with light, with warmth, with love. Searching for that movie glow magic, the comfort found in an honest mans arms.
I remember that constant searching, that quest, that drive to feel wanted, needed, understood, accepted, cherished.
You are something to be cherished, ma cherie. You are a vessel of light, a songbird, a bubble of laughter and yellow sparks and flowered curtains flapping in a summer wind. Its BECAUSE you’re special that men flock to you, try to take that spark, and leave you with only echoes. Its because you are so wonderful that you feel this miserable.
Wonderful people like you are not a dime a dozen. You are your own lighthouse, a beacon that beckons from an uncertain shore. Men from all walks of life are going to be drawn to you. How could they not? You are lovely, vibrant, lush curves and cat eyes. Your job is to decide who is worthy of your time and attention.
Thats a lesson that took a me a long time to learn. It took me a long time to learn how to filter out all the creep bags and losers in wolf smiles, circling me. You have to realize that the pretty girl looking back at you with sad eyes and a hopeful smile is a girl worth protecting, saving.
No one can protect you but yourself. Nothing but your own arms are can fend off the people that can and will hurt you, if you give them a chance. I’m not saying build up huge brick walls and keep the world out. But over time, you’ll learn to wear your battle armor, learn how to raise your shield and repel those hoards of men like hairy Mongols trying to storm the great wall.
All I’m really trying to say is that I love you and I hear you. I see your struggle, and I know how lonely and dark it can feel. Take all the time you need, bubelah. Cry when you need to, hold yourself in the quiet shadows of your bed, grow your scar tissue, lick your wounds. But know that this will pass, this pain will pass, the seemingly vast abyss inside yourself will shrink, the more love you put in there, the more you let good people love you. I have so much faith and hope for you, I just want to stand watch over you and dare any fucker to try to take you away, challenge any douchebag to hurt you again. I would destroy every pair of kneecaps that came my way. But I know I can’t do that, and you may not appreciate a half-crazed Jew with a cock blocking baseball bat. So I’m going to end this letter by saying I think you’re an amazing creature. And I know one day you will meet someone equally amazing that will whisk you off your feet and make you cakes and sandwhichs and take you to the zoo. But until then, hurt and heal, and know that this will pass.
I love you, muncheekee. Stay well. And if you ever need anything, please don’t hesitate to call.