Letters with Love: Stop making me bleed…
Photo courtesy of Wikimedia Commons
Have you ever been in a fight with a friend that felt like it ended in a knife fight? Well.. I have. It doesn't feel the greatest. I must admit that I bled a lot. Stop making me bleed!
Dearest Victor E. Knight,
I miss you most when I listen to Drake, which led me to wonder… is Loverboy truly dead? Drake, known to some as “Smooth Papi,” “BBL Drizzy,” or “Daddy Drake,” just released a brand new song with writer/producer PARTYNEXTDOOR. And boy, let me recite the current lyrics to you: “I want to meet your madre, pay your respects to your padre, mi amor?”
This is why he has received over 50 rejections from all marriage proposals. Not to mention the feud that he lost with Kendrick Lamar. Poor guy, he did not stand a chance against someone like Kendrick. I mean, come on, the man is literally a lyrical genius. It is quite tragic, really. We spend so much time yearning for the Loverboy, for the sentimental type who writes ballads to women, and yet, when we meet him, we run for the hills. Perhaps Loverboy is not dead; perhaps we have killed him. And in a way, I feel complicit in his murder.
Okay, but seriously, can we move past this? I am personally over the celebrity girl drama. I’ve got my own. Try seeing someone you are no longer friends with and pretend they don’t care when they do. Or maybe they really don’t, and that is the part that bothers me so much. It’s unsettling, this performance of indifference. I struggle to find words that I could possibly use to describe how I’m feeling.
At least I can admit to my wrongs. Can you? I have had so much hatred recently, and it is hard to tell where it is coming from. I wonder if they miss me. Truth be told, life’s been great without them, and a part of me feels guilty for thinking that. After all, they were some of my closest friends.
Women are never allowed to feel great, to be great. We were supposed to ache for what we do not have, to miss the people who have left us, to want the things that are not ours.
I went to the gym today and could not enjoy myself. I tried to jog for a bit, but I was really stomping on those shoes— so hard that the treadmill was reheating its nachos. Okay, I took that from TikTok. I am, after all, a TikTok fiend.
Do women actually hate being on their periods? I seem to love it. Why are we so ashamed of the blood that comes from our bodies? Of mess? Of imperfection? I wonder if that is what Drake feels like. Trapped between who he wants to be and who he’s expected to be. The world expects so much from people like himself. Maybe Loverboy is not dead. Maybe he is just hiding, too afraid to show his bleeding heart.
I miss you, Victor. I miss the way we used to talk about everything and nothing all at once. I miss feeling like I could be myself without an apology. I miss feeling seen.
With love,
Carrie Bradshaw