Dearest John,
Nothing is real except you – therefore I must push past and find peace with my nonexistence. Time outside of you ceases to exist. There is you, then not, then you again. I seek what lies beyond this.
John, I can’t explain this. It’s like when the TV goes off. A harsh cut scene. I haven’t seen any four walls outside of my time with you. My childhood is words I tell you from nowhere. Memories conjured from a bubble behind my brain.
I think I am on a string that snaps when you close my door.
Love,
Me.
ramblings
This Dear John letter was written for and rejected by Rat Bag Lit. They allowed two entries so I figured why not since I was already giving it a shot. Like I said before this was out of my usual wheelhouse but unndoubtedly fun.
Also I don’t think I mentioned it in my last post but I loved the feedback I got from them.
feedback
Reader 1:
Now this one is proper weird and I was going to give it a lower score, but it’s a thinking and the more I consider it, the more I like it. Such a weird concept. Isn’t she risking just ceasing to exist by leaving him? What a Dear John letter that is. How much would you have to hate someone to choose non-existence over them?
Reader 2:
(I love this concept, not sure if I am sold on the execution.)
Dear Me,
Wait – did and earlier version of me write this? Was my memory wiped and the game restarted? Ah shit. Not again.
leigh ann 
Got anything to say?