{"title":"Chapter 5 — The Ritual, or Whatever That Bullshit Means","description":"\"After all the men, I discovered something far more mysterious. Myself.\" Four letters about the ritual that became a private love affair with herself.","products":[{"product_id":"letter-018-a-controlled-autopsy-of-myself","title":"Letter 018 — A Controlled Autopsy of Myself","description":"\u003cp\u003eDear me,\u003cbr\u003eFuck you.\u003cbr\u003eThe very first sentence I wrote to myself four months ago, and 018 letters earlier.\u003cbr\u003eI don't know what came over me on Thursday, coming home after a live gig — two single girlfriends and three margaritas later — but I sat in front of the mirror, intending to remove my makeup, and my hand wasn't moving, and my eyes were glued to the reflection.\u003cbr\u003eI think it was a sudden curiosity.\u003cbr\u003eI remember thinking, so what, are you different now?\u003cbr\u003eMy lips were unsettled, like they were trying to speak, but there was no one else but myself there.\u003cbr\u003eWho was I intending to talk to?\u003cbr\u003eI put the wet wipe down and stared for another minute.\u003cbr\u003eI said out loud, \"so now what?\"\u003cbr\u003eI opened my laptop, still sitting in front of myself, and started reading my last letter.\u003cbr\u003eBy the second sentence, I stopped.\u003cbr\u003eDear me, let's see if you are any different.\u003cbr\u003eSo instead, I started from the beginning:\u003cbr\u003eI laid my dead memories on the table.\u003cbr\u003eCarefully cleaned the wounds in Letter 001.\u003cbr\u003ePulled the rubber gloves tight.\u003cbr\u003eThen I made the first incision.\u003cbr\u003eDear me, fuck you…\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp style=\"text-align:center\"\u003e—\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI started with the spine — Chapter I.\u003cbr\u003eReading out loud, my gaze divided between the mirror and the screen.\u003cbr\u003eOn one side, my mouth was running; on the other, my face was observing like it didn't recognise the subject.\u003cbr\u003eThe structure was there — intact, functional — but rigid.\u003cbr\u003eFrom the mix of reactions, the most unexpected one was validation.\u003cbr\u003eIt was accurate.\u003cbr\u003eAll of it.\u003cbr\u003eEven the confusion of who the fuck I am.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp style=\"text-align:center\"\u003e—\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eChapter II.\u003cbr\u003eThe hands.\u003cbr\u003eGripping without substance.\u003cbr\u003eHolding position, but not holding anything real.\u003cbr\u003eA prolonged attachment to an illusion of movement — like circulation without progression.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp style=\"text-align:center\"\u003e—\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBy Chapter III, I was already a glass of red in — preparing for impact.\u003cbr\u003eThe nervous system.\u003cbr\u003eReactive. Hyperstimulated.\u003cbr\u003eThe toxic patterns, the desire, the weaknesses, even the humiliations — ironically the most familiar tissue in the whole examination.\u003cbr\u003eI think it's because I never allowed myself to see it from the other side of the table.\u003cbr\u003eBut I was there.\u003cbr\u003eI am there.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp style=\"text-align:center\"\u003e—\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBy the time I reached Chapter IV and made the incision through the chest, I knew what I was looking at.\u003cbr\u003eNo surprises.\u003cbr\u003eJust retained mass.\u003cbr\u003eSomething that no longer functions but still occupies space like it has authority.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp style=\"text-align:center\"\u003e—\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eDear me, somewhere between the readings and the observation, my writing changed.\u003cbr\u003eMore fragmented.\u003cbr\u003eMore precise.\u003cbr\u003eLess need to explain what I already understand.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp style=\"text-align:center\"\u003e—\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTwo hours of dissection.\u003cbr\u003eA controlled autopsy of myself.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp style=\"text-align:center\"\u003e—\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe report is clear: change requires three things — self-destruction, truth, a high tolerance for no, and a final decision.\u003cbr\u003eI said three. I meant four. Even my arithmetic is becoming.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp style=\"text-align:center\"\u003e—\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eDear me, I like watching you in the mirror.\u003cbr\u003eNot in a sentimental way.\u003cbr\u003eMore like observing a subject that finally started cooperating.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp style=\"text-align:center\"\u003e—\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI think I'm onto a new phase.\u003cbr\u003eA ritual, if you will.\u003cbr\u003eOr whatever this bullshit is clinically called.\u003c\/p\u003e","brand":"Love Letters To Myself","offers":[{"title":"Default","offer_id":57916282765643,"sku":null,"price":1.49,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":true}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1064\/4802\/7979\/files\/LLTM_Banner_2_5425acae-0d03-4bb1-9444-33ac6b8a3170.jpg?v=1785562889"},{"product_id":"letter-019-devil-on-my-shoulder","title":"Letter 019 — Devil on My Shoulder","description":"\u003cp\u003eDear me,\u003cbr\u003eI feel like I am diving into a dangerous game of delusion.\u003cbr\u003eIs it possible to feel desire for a fantasy not connected to any man in particular, but directed towards myself?\u003cbr\u003eIs it possible to be turned on by a reflection — my reflection?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp style=\"text-align:center\"\u003e—\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWhite.\u003cbr\u003eI have always been your favourite.\u003cbr\u003eI can tell by the way you sit on my olive skin, by the way you sharpen against my dark hair.\u003cbr\u003eSo I chose you tonight.\u003cbr\u003eBecause I am planning to be loved.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp style=\"text-align:center\"\u003e—\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMy wet hair was still dripping into the bathroom sink, while the version of myself I had chosen for this night was already lying on the bed, waiting.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp style=\"text-align:center\"\u003e—\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ePrecise cat-eye eyeliner in black.\u003cbr\u003eShadows carved into my cheekbones.\u003cbr\u003eDark red lipstick — too deliberate to be innocent.\u003cbr\u003eA quiet fight between elegance and seduction.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp style=\"text-align:center\"\u003e—\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMy body was glowing.\u003cbr\u003eSo were my eyes — impatient for the eye contact to begin.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp style=\"text-align:center\"\u003e—\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI opened a bottle of white.\u003cbr\u003eI didn't want anything else to be red but my lips.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp style=\"text-align:center\"\u003e—\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI set the light low.\u003cbr\u003ePut on my best shoes — high, demanding, loud against the apartment floor.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp style=\"text-align:center\"\u003e—\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMy white-leg trousers hugged my waist, while the edge of the bodysuit against my chest kept reminding me I was wearing it with every step I took.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp style=\"text-align:center\"\u003e—\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eToward the mirror.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp style=\"text-align:center\"\u003e—\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eGold on my hands.\u003cbr\u003eOn my neck.\u003cbr\u003eLike I was marking something. Or claiming it.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp style=\"text-align:center\"\u003e—\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eA heavyweight contender.\u003cbr\u003eI against I.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp style=\"text-align:center\"\u003e—\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eYes, the mirror from Thursday was waiting.\u003cbr\u003eWe had unfinished business.\u003cbr\u003eAnd whether this was a beginning or just an experiment, I was ready to give myself the best version of me available.\u003cbr\u003eSomething I have given only to others.\u003cbr\u003eI sat in front of my mirror, with my wine glass close and my playlist like a little devil on my shoulder, still unsure where this was going, but highly aware that every minute of it I felt that she was my final destination.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp style=\"text-align:center\"\u003e—\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLike I was dissolving into that woman, into that version of me I used to imagine from a distance.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp style=\"text-align:center\"\u003e—\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe was there.\u003cbr\u003eIn white and red.\u003cbr\u003eBetween angel and not even close to one.\u003cbr\u003eShe was mine.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp style=\"text-align:center\"\u003e—\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eDear me, I was falling in love with you.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp style=\"text-align:center\"\u003e—\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd somewhere between the silence and the music, I was turned on.\u003c\/p\u003e","brand":"Love Letters To Myself","offers":[{"title":"Default","offer_id":57916283388235,"sku":null,"price":1.49,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":true}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1064\/4802\/7979\/files\/LLTM_Banner_2_78fca865-1224-4c36-9a09-296f2d840195.jpg?v=1785562895"},{"product_id":"letter-020-i-was-my-toxic-man","title":"Letter 020 — I Was My Toxic Man","description":"\u003cp\u003eI couldn't understand exactly what game I was playing with myself.\u003cbr\u003eI wasn't the type to share much with the mirror.\u003cbr\u003eThis was different.\u003cbr\u003eI wasn't looking at me — I was looking at the one I was chasing.\u003cbr\u003eDear future me, I met you last night...\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp style=\"text-align:center\"\u003e—\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHalf a bottle in, I was so relaxed, like I had done this for years.\u003cbr\u003eThis… what is this?\u003cbr\u003eIs it what everyone calls manifestation?\u003cbr\u003eI was — I am — yet to understand, but I don't need the name just now.\u003cbr\u003eThe moment was just perfect.\u003cbr\u003eSo was the amount of wine, but that didn't stop me from pouring more.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp style=\"text-align:center\"\u003e—\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI didn't realise how deep I was in this delusion game until I started having imaginary conversations with people I know, with people who used to matter.\u003cbr\u003eI guess I wanted them to see me as I see myself today — calm, soft, seductive, precise in my imaginary answers.\u003cbr\u003eI felt like I was rewriting the past and ending it the way I never had the chance to before, because the version of myself then didn't know what \"no\" meant, except for herself.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp style=\"text-align:center\"\u003e—\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI could feel the slow breeze on my neck coming through the window.\u003cbr\u003eI wished someone could have touched me then and given me another reason to fulfil the future.\u003cbr\u003eI wanted to be admired as I was admiring myself — openly, unconditionally, and hard to resist.\u003cbr\u003eMy lips were touching the edge of the wine glass like I was expecting a kiss.\u003cbr\u003eMy skin was revealing everything with electricity.\u003cbr\u003eAnd suddenly I just wanted to turn the light off, right after leaving the white behind on the floor, in a small devilish dance, erotic for myself.\u003cbr\u003eI knew this would happen again the moment I lit a cigarette in bed.\u003cbr\u003eI felt dirty, crazy, and satisfied.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp style=\"text-align:center\"\u003e—\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI was my toxic guy.\u003cbr\u003eThe rush. The intensity. The morning after.\u003cbr\u003eExcept this time, both roles were mine.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp style=\"text-align:center\"\u003e—\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eDear me,\u003cbr\u003eI woke up reborn.\u003cbr\u003eRe-fucking-incarnated.\u003cbr\u003eI don't even know how to call it — maybe fulfilled.\u003cbr\u003eThe feeling was weirdly familiar.\u003cbr\u003eI used to feel like this when I woke up after D. — the 2:13am door, the blue eyes, the most magnificent toxic man I ever met, broken beyond repair — a fucking masterpiece of toxicity.\u003cbr\u003eFeeling used, with crushed dignity traded for a great orgasm.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp style=\"text-align:center\"\u003e—\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eDear me,\u003cbr\u003eIt is a toxique summer.\u003cbr\u003eAnd the hunt has begun.\u003cbr\u003eWho the fuck am I turning into?\u003c\/p\u003e","brand":"Love Letters To Myself","offers":[{"title":"Default","offer_id":57916283552075,"sku":null,"price":1.49,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":true}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1064\/4802\/7979\/files\/LLTM_Banner_2_92f736f2-1a56-4872-8476-0d756b432b82.jpg?v=1785562900"},{"product_id":"letter-021-emotional-leftovers","title":"Letter 021 — Emotional Leftovers","description":"\u003cp\u003eI was eating the leftovers from that night like a homeless dog.\u003cbr\u003eBy Saturday, I was turning down invitations to socialise before they even reached my notification screen.\u003cbr\u003eThat's how dangerous this was.\u003cbr\u003eI was the main dish, the guest of honour, and everything was about me.\u003cbr\u003eAnd strangely enough, that wasn't even the scariest part.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp style=\"text-align:center\"\u003e—\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIt turned out there were a lot of incomplete conversations I wanted to rewrite.\u003cbr\u003eOr maybe I just wanted to see her in the mirror again.\u003cbr\u003eOne day she will sit on my side of the mirror, and who will she be looking up to then?\u003cbr\u003eAnother version, more refined?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp style=\"text-align:center\"\u003e—\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMaybe becoming never actually ends.\u003cbr\u003eMaybe the more you become, the more difficult it is to stay impressed by anything that no longer grows with you.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp style=\"text-align:center\"\u003e—\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThey say appetite comes with food.\u003cbr\u003eI think that applies to becoming too.\u003cbr\u003eFor a while you are full, satisfied even, and then suddenly something shifts and you are hungry again.\u003cbr\u003eHungrier than before.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp style=\"text-align:center\"\u003e—\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI can no longer distinguish between the good and the bad side of this change.\u003cbr\u003eI have entirely lost interest in simple conversations, cheap gossip, random men, even when they are attractive.\u003cbr\u003eIt's like I have been completely swallowed by myself.\u003cbr\u003eNot in some obnoxious way.\u003cbr\u003eMore in a \"I didn't know I was such an interesting person\" kind of way.\u003cbr\u003eFunny thing is, \"Maybe I'm not good enough\" slowly turned into \"He is a complete idiot.\"\u003cbr\u003eAnd that shift happened so quietly I almost missed it.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp style=\"text-align:center\"\u003e—\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI don't want to lose touch with reality, but reality has so much less to offer lately.\u003cbr\u003eSame talks. Same drinks.\u003cbr\u003eSame people repeating the same insecurities in different outfits.\u003cbr\u003eHow long can someone stay impressed by that?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp style=\"text-align:center\"\u003e—\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMom asked me yesterday, worried, \"How can you always be alone? You need to meet people.\"\u003cbr\u003eSo I asked her back, \"Have you ever sat at a table full of people and still felt like you weren't really there? Like the only thing crossing your mind was: I could have been writing right now. What is the point?\"\u003cbr\u003eShe couldn't answer.\u003cbr\u003eAnd maybe that scared me more than the question itself.\u003cbr\u003eBecause all my life I felt like I was missing something if I wasn't at the table.\u003cbr\u003eNow I feel like I am missing something if I am.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp style=\"text-align:center\"\u003e—\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eSo is this growth or just another addiction wearing expensive language?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp style=\"text-align:center\"\u003e—\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI owe it to myself to discover the woman in the mirror and bring her fully to life.\u003cbr\u003eI think I am falling in love with her.\u003cbr\u003eAnd how can't I, when she is built from every admiration I was too afraid to chase before?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp style=\"text-align:center\"\u003e—\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMaybe that's why I no longer trust the phrase \"I am enough.\"\u003cbr\u003eIt sounds less like self-love and more like fear dressed up as acceptance.\u003cbr\u003eBecause what does \"enough\" actually mean?\u003c\/p\u003e","brand":"Love Letters To Myself","offers":[{"title":"Default","offer_id":57916283683147,"sku":null,"price":1.49,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":true}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1064\/4802\/7979\/files\/LLTM_Banner_2_e4972145-acca-48e4-8941-2ba237332af5.jpg?v=1785562904"},{"product_id":"chapter-v-the-ritual-or-whatever-that-bullshit-means-full-chapter","title":"Chapter V — The Ritual, or Whatever That Bullshit Means (Full Chapter)","description":"\u003cp\u003eAll four letters of Chapter V, in one purchase — a discount over buying them one at a time.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cul\u003e\n\u003cli\u003eLetter 018 — A Controlled Autopsy of Myself\u003c\/li\u003e\n\u003cli\u003eLetter 019 — Devil on My Shoulder\u003c\/li\u003e\n\u003cli\u003eLetter 020 — I Was My Toxic Man\u003c\/li\u003e\n\u003cli\u003eLetter 021 — Emotional Leftovers\u003c\/li\u003e\n\u003c\/ul\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"After all the men, I discovered something far more mysterious. Myself.\"\u003c\/p\u003e","brand":"Love Letters To Myself","offers":[{"title":"Default","offer_id":57916283748683,"sku":null,"price":4.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":true}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1064\/4802\/7979\/files\/chapter-v-cover.jpg?v=1785564828"}],"url":"https:\/\/loveletterstomyself.co\/collections\/chapter-v-the-ritual-or-whatever-that-bullshit-means.oembed","provider":"Love Letters To Myself","version":"1.0","type":"link"}