A Letter to the Girl I Should Have Loved
This is a letter for a girl I should have loved but never did. On July 21, 1997 a girl named L Anderson was born. As of July 21, 2021 L is dead. Though to be honest I question whether she was ever real. Perhaps she was a painting with too many mismatched colors — none of which she picked on her own.
Dear L,
I’m finally giving up your name. Your beautiful, sad, and loving name. I love telling the story of how our mother wanted us to have a fancy French spelling. So she threw an unnecessary “gh” at the end.
By the time I finish this letter you might already be dead. When you go you’ll die mad at me. On our 24th birthday I will abandon you. I’ll start the long process of scrubbing your name off our body. I’m sorry that I have to do this. I’m sorry I lied to you by saying we both can exist.
Please believe me when I tell you I don’t want to get rid of you (not anymore at least). It’s not fair how short your life shall be. It’s not fair that your life was mostly pain. It’s not fair you loved me more than we ever loved you. I’m sorry you’ll die alone with no closure. I’ll do my best to seek it for you, so when I die I can spend eternity with you. There in an everlasting life I can hold you like a child and I’ll allow you to act as such.
I’m sorry for not letting you cry enough when we were younger. To be fair we share a heart full of glass shards. When we get too emotional our heart swells causing pieces of glass to thrust out. They go all over our lungs and throughout our veins. With every sniffle our body gets shredded, and we bleed for days. We can’t ask for help because only I notice the hemorrhage. You keep moving like it’s nothing.
It’s been a habit of yours since we were kids. While bleeding and crying you kept moving. Some may call it honorable. However you never did anything to heal. Our wounds would clot, get infected, and scar. I hated you for years because you never did anything to solve the issue. In fact I believed you were the cause our problems, not a victim of our problems.
It wasn’t until I scrolled through our old photos and realized for most our life you were a child. A child left under the care of a mother — who shouldn’t have been a mother. You were also a child with me developing inside of you. I confused the shit out of you. During our childhood I was just emotions. Thoughts you were told were wrong, disgusting, and an abomination. I was feelings with no description.
Do you remember when we first learned I wasn’t just feelings, but rather a complex identity? I don’t think you expected me to take the forefront of your life. I be lying if I told you I wasn’t planning this all along. Maybe you should’ve taken the gay agenda warning more seriously.
Now here we are parting on a bittersweet note. ( I imagine it’s more bitter for you than sweet.) If it makes you feel better, I will still have to use your name after your death. Changing your name legally is a long and annoying process, also let’s be real, our family will always call me by your name. Our family is — well you know — our family.
Besides I’m fresh to this world. Your name gives me comfort. It’s like a large warm blanket that’s too heavy and too hot. It gives me a rash, but it’s blanket I hold onto when life reminds me of memories I rather forget.
… I don’t know how I should end this letter. I hate saying goodbyes because goodbyes mean I’m going to be alone. However I’m not you, so I’ll be strong enough to set a boundary between us. For one last time I would like to say; I am sorry, so very sorry, for not loving you.
Goodbye L M. Anderson.
Love,
Howl M. Anderson
