Suspect 302
*Sigh.
Hey,
Sorry I have sent you a letter that is full of red stains; I am extremely drunk right now, (shocking I can hold a pen), and the wine keeps spilling over. In my defense it is quite cold, so I am shivering.I am calling it wine just to sound cool, but it is actually mirinda fruity punched with empire vodka, gilbeys, red label, plus a few tears and mucus.
I miss you! I miss us!
The decision I made to walk away from you 20 years ago has been like a cancer to me over the years. It has eaten me slowly…..but oh so surely! I left you because I was looking for Superman and ignoring you my Clark Kent. Every morning you left me a note on my backpack saying you loved me, or you missed me already, and I thought it was cheap and stupid because you did not want to join facebook and post on my wall.
Wipes Tear
You always insisted that we take long walks to town every Sunday to ‘get to know each other better,’but I thought it was your way of punishing me for not having sex with you for the three months that had passed. I hated to walk and you knew it. I was a fool. I am a fool.
I miss you! I miss us!
20 years down the road and you are happily married with 3 kids and a beautiful wife. It could have been me, but I was stupid. I was sorry to hear that your last born is asthmatic. Funny because I, too, am asthmatic. It could have been us. I miss you! I miss us!
My 20 years have been 3 divorces, 4 husbands, 5 children, cigarettes plus alcohol……LOTS AND LOTS OF IT!!!
I miss you my original valentine.
I pass by you each morning on my way to my Kiosk as you drop off Elijah, Natasha and Tony at Montessori International School. I am glad you got the BMW X6 you always wanted.
I on the other hand still have the bicycle with which Aaron, the guy i cheated on you with, left me, to sell and get money to abort Sebastian, my first born.
I spend my Valentine’s day and every other day with a photograph of you in my pocket, a glass of whiskey in one hand, a cigarette in the other, and tears rolling down my cheek….well, that’s only when I am lucky enough to do so. Most times, my so called husband (sheilah’s dad) is either beating me or raping me. Story of my life!
I guess it is too late to turn back the hands of time, it is too late to go back to the wrong turn I made. I hope and pray that you take at least half a second each year to think of me and smile.
Bob just opened the door. I hear him walk to the room in which I am seated. Time to get beaten or raped or both. Gotta go.
I miss you! I miss us!
