Dear "You"...From "Me"-Letters Unsent

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Why don't you go ahead and just bring it on.

You don't scare me, I am probably where you think I am.

Dear Denis Istomin.

Today, three years ago, I became interested in you. It started when I saw you having a medical timeout and it aroused compassion in me. I then watched your match and was impressed by your calm demeanor and good sportsmanship. You reached out to your opponent when he slipped and fell. Your on-court sportsmanship and kindness motivated me to investigate your story! WOW! What you overcame on the way to the ATP tour was incredible! In your match with Novak Djokovic, you demonstrated the same calm, sportsmanship and good humor I know you for. Keep up the good work, Denis! It's too bad you might potentially be playing Rafa at Wimbledon. That will be one tasty match if it takes place!

i have so much i want to say to you, but you don't seem to be interested in hearing it.


oh well.

I categorically apologize for having annoying problems, and being awful at social interaction.

Dear friend,

I thought we shared common goals but it appears we do not.
You have made out that you gave life to the things in your environment when you slowly took it all away.

The amazing stories you once told me turned out to have harsh realities and truths.
When you start accepting them, I'll begin to accept what's happened between us and go back to being drinking buddies, laughing and sharing our worldly plans over cheap ale.

You usually have such great temperament and persona, which is why it's so very hard to shake the disappointment I harbour for what you have done to me and so many others you have claimed to "help" or be involved with. I hope this changes one day. I really do.


and.

Dear Life,

I know we've had our differences. I know you've tried to tell me some things and I've tried so hard to prove myself to you in utter defiance of your teachings. Just so you know; you were right and it's OK to be ordinary (at least...for the most part). I promise not to keep playing up from now on.

Yours truly,

Self.

Denis,

Sorry to hear that you had to retire with an injury. I hope you feel better soon.

Rafael,

Not again! Not another loss to a low-ranked player! Just when I thought things were going so well, it all comes to an end once again.

Dear me,

It's not that people aren't posting, it's just that you're posting too fast! This is becoming the Charity Goody Grace Place!! !

Love,

Charity

Dear you,

If you took the time to stop being a butt-hurt, paranoid, perpetual victim you would realise that I would do anything in my power to help you.

Even if that makes you hate me.

Love,
Raleigh.

You know who you are.

I'm onto you. Lots of people in real life agree with me.

Love,

Charity

To David Ferrer,

Good to see you doing well in your current tournament! Win in Sweden and hopefully put your injury problems behind you.

Dear You,

Remember when, to you, everything I felt that wasn't desire to eat out or about your cock was depression?? Feeling hurt was depression. Wanting to grow a garden was depression. Everything was depression.

Now you see depression. The last seven years have been depression.

I should get help, you said. Take some medication, you said. Now you see me-- brain damaged from neuroleptics, addicted to benzos (yeah, I took them for a few months and it's been over a year-- still addicted), still easily exhausted (permanent thyroid dysfunction, maybe??) from five months on Zoloft.

All I needed, ever, was somebody to listen. Preferably someone who lives in the real world, not that idealistic wouldn't it be great fantasy land called therapy. Preferably someone who isn't my MALE best friend, who I can't be accused of adultery just for talking with.

That was too hard. You told me how uncaring I was because I wouldn't CATER to your judgments and fears. Why can't you LISTEN to mine??

--Me

BuyerBeware,

Your post hit the nail on the head exactly. People are too quick to call everything depression, but when they are up against the real thing, they don't notice it or they want to medicate the problem, not knowing the horrible side effects (and downright up front effects) of those horrible drugs. Just the names of those pharmaceuticals are the stuff of nightmares.

Dear world,

I miss having a dog.
I can deal with no one finding me bearable enough to be attached to, but I really miss having a dog.