Letter to Dead Girlfriend# Piebridge - 鹊桥
l*n
1 楼
http://www.lemondrop.com/2009/12/30/craigslist-letter-to-dead-g
It has been a rough year darling. The ethereal power of Craig's List will
get this message to you I am sure, like in some sort of cheesy 80s movie.
Well back to the last year, you of course died at the beginning of it which
put things to a sour start. I spent last night with your mum and dad, we
went to that Italian place in Wicker Park, who on the surface seem to be
coping. I had everyone get together for my 25th which went well, your ladies
are on top form and I think some engagements are brewing. Ellen is turning
up the heat on Steve who will soon be forced down to one knee as you
predicted.
Last weekend I finally took the step of cleaning out your clothes from the
closet, which is very barren now. I invited your friends over to take your
what they liked, it was an awkward session. I think they took them more as a
favor to me than anything else. Liz cried when we pulled out all of your
shoes, Miranda joined in and then Catherine broke down. It was strange to
stand in our bedroom surrounded by three crying girls. I made a joke about
them crying for joy at the prospect of some free Manolo Balhniks which they
didn't seem to find very funny.
A few girls have put the moves on and as you know picking up women is not a
forte of mine. It seems the grieving boyfriend seems to be a good angle. Who
knew! I went on one date and spent it talking about you, the poor girl. You
would have found it quite witty I think. No other dates to report, I am
going against your orders to move on for now.
I found one of those hair tie things that somehow managed to squeeze into
every crevice in the apartment. It was under the bed. I sat on the floor
holding it and cried. Until then I had held everything together but it just
all came flooding out.
Every morning when I wake up I forget for a fraction of a second that you
are gone and I reach for you. All I ever find is the cold side of the bed.
My eyes settle on the picture of us in Paris, on the bedside table, and I am
overjoyed that even though the time was brief I loved you and you loved me.
Love,
P.
It has been a rough year darling. The ethereal power of Craig's List will
get this message to you I am sure, like in some sort of cheesy 80s movie.
Well back to the last year, you of course died at the beginning of it which
put things to a sour start. I spent last night with your mum and dad, we
went to that Italian place in Wicker Park, who on the surface seem to be
coping. I had everyone get together for my 25th which went well, your ladies
are on top form and I think some engagements are brewing. Ellen is turning
up the heat on Steve who will soon be forced down to one knee as you
predicted.
Last weekend I finally took the step of cleaning out your clothes from the
closet, which is very barren now. I invited your friends over to take your
what they liked, it was an awkward session. I think they took them more as a
favor to me than anything else. Liz cried when we pulled out all of your
shoes, Miranda joined in and then Catherine broke down. It was strange to
stand in our bedroom surrounded by three crying girls. I made a joke about
them crying for joy at the prospect of some free Manolo Balhniks which they
didn't seem to find very funny.
A few girls have put the moves on and as you know picking up women is not a
forte of mine. It seems the grieving boyfriend seems to be a good angle. Who
knew! I went on one date and spent it talking about you, the poor girl. You
would have found it quite witty I think. No other dates to report, I am
going against your orders to move on for now.
I found one of those hair tie things that somehow managed to squeeze into
every crevice in the apartment. It was under the bed. I sat on the floor
holding it and cried. Until then I had held everything together but it just
all came flooding out.
Every morning when I wake up I forget for a fraction of a second that you
are gone and I reach for you. All I ever find is the cold side of the bed.
My eyes settle on the picture of us in Paris, on the bedside table, and I am
overjoyed that even though the time was brief I loved you and you loved me.
Love,
P.