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I Don’t Send Them

April 14, 2009

There’s an old Deana Carter song that goes, “I write you letters, but I don’t send them.  I just can’t figure out how to end them.”

I love this song.  I’ve always loved this song.  It irks me a bit, though, because I’ve tried to write my own song about all the letter writing I do many times, and I can never do it because I always come back to this line and think, “but the song’s already been written.”

But it hasn’t.  Deana’s story and my story are very different.  Hers is an “Absence of the Heart,” and mine is anything but.  She can’t end her letters… my letters never end.

They are long.  There are many of them.  To try to pin down all the things I’d ever want to say and to say them as meaningfully as I try to do in the length of one letter would be impossible.  I could publish volumes of all the letters I’ve written over the years.  Even over the past year. When I feel something I feel it in great depth and great length and I get wordy.  Oh, do I get wordy.  But I’m scared of really sharing that part of myself when I don’t know how the intended recipient will respond, and so there is one thing Deana and her letters and I and mine have in common.

The letters never get sent.
Not the kind of letters we’re talking about here anyway.

You’ve been seeing protected posts pop up, usually one every few weeks, and they are all titled “a letter.”  They are letters.  They are letters to someone who is not reading the letters.  They are sent, in a way, I suppose, since a very small number of people have that password.  But the person they are truly meant for?  That person is not seeing them.

And for some reason today I wish that person could.  But again, I am not courageous enough to let that side of me show.

So I guess this is a bit of a letter too.
An unprotected, mini-confession.

Those letters?  They might be for you.
And if you think they might be for you, maybe we should talk.

But I’m not going to start the conversation because I’m scared.
And if you’re scared too for any reason at all, take your time.  I don’t have to be hurried.  I just need to know that you know this is on my mind.

And it is.

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3 Comments leave one →
  1. April 14, 2009 4:18 pm

    oh brave. very brave, my dear. at least you’re acknowledging things and not pretending that they aren’t there. <3

  2. aribabybug permalink
    April 14, 2009 10:19 pm

    Been there, done that. At least you’re not leaving passive-aggressive tweets and facebook statuses all over the place instead of sending the letters!

    Also, it’s usually better to just send the letter. Saves a lot of heartache.

  3. April 18, 2009 9:14 pm

    letter writing gets me through life. And honestly, I think it’s probably my best form of writing probably because they’re about my feelings. I like how you’re sharing.

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