My hands are shaking as I type up the letter for, "The Other Woman." I need to write this letter, but I must do it in a trance. If I digresses, I begin to feel, and I can't afford to feel. I just need an explanation.

Behind the masked smile I wear on my face, there is sadness and shock. Anxiously I look left and right, repeatedly as a single sound passes by, checking for signs of him that will not come. I had poured warmth into him for so long and he had once loved it, I know he did. But then mere seconds into the relationship, it seems, he had turned cold and shut me out. It hurts. Every time is a new wound, a new scar to add to the collection.

It never stopped me from loving him, but the hurt covers me like a cloak I never wanted, bonding to my skin when all I had ever wanted was the sunshine. That's why I act the way I did for several days afterwards, it takes time to shed something like that. You cannot blame me for being unreasonably afraid; for being unreasonably sad.

I'll be broken as the memory will come back and play on my mind over and over again like a broken record. It will only repeat, I tell you. . . I cannot move on without an understanding. But at the same time I know that not everything needs to be explained. Not everything needs to be known. Sometimes, it just is what fate made it to be, and you can't help it.

I cried as if my brain was being shredded from the inside. Emotional pain flowed out of every pore, from my mouth came a cry so raw that even the eyes of strangers were suddenly wet with tears. Holding on to the memories of what used to be, the happier times; but it's not like that anymore. So scared that I won't find anyone else, but I guess we all know that's not true.

There will always be better guys out there, way better than him. Yet my pride is hurt, my ego is beyond damaged. I don't know what emotion to feel, I feel confused, angry, and hurt at the same time. So I begin to take out my frustration, my sadness, my pain in the letter; As I grip the pen to somewhat ease my violent shaking I cry and write. . .

"Dear Other Woman, I don't wish for you to get hit by a bus, or for someone to beat you up; or anything like that. Instead, I hope that you fall in love. Like truly fall in love. I hope that he is everything you've ever asked for, and so much more. I hope he is the source of your happiness, and that he'll be the first to make you feel beautiful.

Then, after one or two years, I hope to god that some girl just like you swoops in and ruins it all. I hope you scream and cry into your pillow every night asking yourself why he woke up one morning after his cup of tea; And decided that he preferred her light green eyes over your mocha ones. I hope that every time you try to kiss him after, you taste nothing but the lies that taint his lips. And after it's over, I hope that you never receive an apology. You never get answers. I hope and I pray, you blame yourself for the longest time like I did. Then maybe, just maybe, you would understand."