When I first decided to write a letter to you to relieve me of my feelings of despair and guilt, I had no idea who to send it too. You are a man, no, a monster, of many faces. You can be so kind and, yet, so deceptive. You knew I was desperate. And that I was Tara's friend. So you sugar coated every word you said to me and tricked me into love. All I was in the beginning was a tool for jealousy. Then you saw my potential. I had an appearance of toughness, being able to cope with the oppressiveness if life. But you caught a fleeting glimpse of the real me. The old me. The one that would prefer decisions to be made for her so she wouldn't have to do it. That's when you saw a perfect outlet for your unexpressed sexual demands. So I can't decide who to send this too. The Jared that enjoyed domination? Mr. Egotistical Jack-Off? Or the Jared that wrote me poetry and gave me such a cute and adorable teddy bear for Valentine's Day? Mr. Love-Sick Romeo? Or to the cowardly Jared that is now scared of his ex-girlfriend? Mr. Stay away from the Witch Leslie? And don't think I haven't noticed. I know you better than you think.

What I'm writing for is to shut-up that nagging voice inside that says that I'm to blame for everything. I named it after you. Now whenever that 'Jared' talks to me, I try not to heed, as I used to slave for it. It tells me the lies you told me. That I caused it all. The relationship beginning, the 'lose of morals' you went through, and the nasty little break-up and its repercussions. I refuse to listen to you anymore, Jared. You voice doesn't have that sexy Sean Connery appeal anymore. Instead, it sounds like a melodramatic lost boy, which is what you are and always have been. I was again to naive to see it.

You played me. You know that I had never been loved. You knew what I let you. And that's about all of the fault I take for this. I let you in a little too deep. But that was not the problem. I should have taken you all the way in so you would drown; that was my problem, that I didn't realize, or, rather, refuse to believe that there was more to me than what you thought. Instead, I let you in to the insecure waters of myself. If I would've let you deeper, you would have seen that I am my own person and that I am powerful. More powerful than you'll ever be. But you didn't know this and this is your downfall now, almost a year after you went you separate way and left me alone on the road. Think of that, Jared. It's been a year. Leave me alone. You played with me once and broke your toy. And this is one thing you can fix. Think of that too, Jared. Something that the Great Master of the Machines can't fix. But you knew, or we both thought you did, everything about my weak self.

But that's the past. As much as I have actually tried to change it, it is unalterable. And now I know that this is more the best. It has opened the door in me to that proud and strong beast with teeth and claws and, most valuable of all, intelligence. You opened the door during our relationship to the ignorant lamb that never put up a fight. And, when you closed off that door, the panther's door was opened. And that closing of a door has changed me for the better. But enough with the aftermath of our break up. Let's talk about the present.

Wait. There's still another issue about our past I would like to discuss. Your hormones. You called what we did 'bad' and 'unethical' and last, but certainly not least, 'your fault, Leslie'. My fault? Somehow, I think not. Please keep in mind who went to the Catholic church, who served as an alter girl, who had the most guilt to carry. You were the atheist. Not me, well, not yet. You hadn't totally corrupted all that I believed in by that time. Now, I refuse what I was taught. But that's okay; if you have any guilt, be not of this. I have new beliefs and new ideas that I find as truth. In fact, if you ever did anything else good for me other than shutting out the sheep, it was changing my mind about religion. But I must not get off task. I wanted point out that it certainly couldn't have been my fault if I was the one that found this morally wrong. My fault is not stopping myself. It's you fault that you couldn't stop the chain of reactions after you started them But let's get to the present.

You still need me, don't you? It shows; as much as you try to cover it up, it shines like a lighthouse during a storm at sea. You stare at me whenever you see me with an intense longing in your eyes. What's wrong; is that slut you now date not being as meek as you would prefer? Missing walking all over someone? I hope you are. And I hope it hurts like hell whenever you see me with Chris. I hope that pain is down deep in the heart where pain can never be cured. I hope you're going through what I did when you were chasing Jill one week after our relationship came crashing to a halt. And I dare to think you are. That expression of loneliness when you see me is very expressive. And you call yourself an actor.

Now my OWN Kitten,

Leslie