To Whom it May Concern,

Dear anonymous,


Today is the 17th day of January, this year of 2016. I awoke after a hard night’s rest. The demons fought harder than ever before. Ironically, I was sung to sleep by the sweet melody of assured peace but I only found a struggle. The evening tossed my body to and fro yet nothing could awake this desert(ed) soul. I could hear gentle voices calling softly from a distant shore. They beckoned my weary heart to awake but I had been fighting for so long. What strength did I have left?

My demons had their way with my mind and left me to die. My last breath shook me from my nightmare and I opened my eyes to a dark and dreary road. It seems that I find trouble no matter where my feet may trod.

I thought that you would be here. I called for you but only heard the faint pitter-patter of the rain upon this soft ground. I reckoned that you may have just stepped away. Maybe the sun had been shining and you wanted to feel its warmth before the storm? I wouldn’t have blamed you; my skin yearns for the warmth of the afternoon sun. I wouldn’t dare expect you to seclude your self from the gentle touch of the sun’s beam. 

I waited for you. I reasoned within my mind that you may have found a little joy in the present rainstorm. Nothin’ like a good puddle stompin’ to brighten up someone’s heart, eh? You never came back, though.

You never walked back through the door.

I guess I can’t blame you. I mean, who would subject themselves to the daily war my heart wages? No one should have to experience this. I guess my heart just hurts a little bit more in your absence. I can’t help but think of the words you so oft repeated to my cold ears…

“I promise”

Means so little when I think on it; your promise, that is. You said that you loved me. You said that you would never go; that no matter what road we walked you would be my guide. You were supposed to be different. You weren’t supposed to be like the others. Your word was supposed to matter…How foolish I am.

I find it hard to look anyone in the eye anymore. It’s always a steadfast reminder that no eyes, no matter how gentle, can be trusted. You left scars on me that will never depart. Every step is a subtle nudge directed at your memory. The demons laugh at my torture. They whisper that I should have known. They beat me. Oh, how their words ring in my ears. I should’ve known…

I should’ve known…

I saw you today. There was a smile stretching across your face. I heard you say something about “love” and “trust”. The person opposite of you drank it all in. Poor soul. If only they knew what they were trusting in. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for you too. You’ll never know what honesty means. You’ll never have your eyes opened to the truth. Why? Only because you live your life tangled in lies. You utter a blessing but your life exudes a curse. A foul aroma surrounds your existence. You will never feel true love.

Honestly, it saddens me more than anything to know this. I would rather live in reality than ignorance. I suppose that ignorance truly is bliss though. I can only hope and pray that your eyes are opened to the pain that you’ve caused me. Don’t misunderstand me, though. I don’t wish that so I could be vilified by an apology. I don’t want your apology. I only wish for you to see the hopelessness that has brought me to my knees. I only wish for you to feel the loneliness that I have felt. Maybe then you could feel what true love is; what it looks like. 

For now you will go on spewing your lies covered in lust and I will struggle to love you the way I wish to be loved. I only wish I could be unconditionally accepted in your eyes. I’m sorry for being a burden that you never wanted to carry. I’m sorry for only wanting to be loved. I suppose that you will continue on believing that you’re doing the world good by despising what I live. Maybe one day you will realize that you are wrong. 


That would be the day, wouldn’t it?


A Wandering Vagabond


Ladies and gentleman, this letter was written by my hand and addressed to the stigma surrounding Mental Illness. More than that, it is addressed to the people living their lives in prideful arrogance/ignorance toward those who walk through darkness. It is addressed to those who claim Christ yet they do not love like Him. It is addressed to anyone who dare claim that they love but do not get their hands dirty. We, the broken, only wish to be accepted, loved, and helped. We don’t want to be told, lectured, or given advice. We just want you to love us and to be there for us. I hope and pray that your eyes will be opened to the pain that we feel and the darkness we live in. Sometimes we just can’t help it…but you can.


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