Dear {Name Redacted} | Rage & Tenderness

Kennedy Creek. Northern Cascades, PCT.

Sept. 19, 2025

I wrote this awhile ago and am finally sharing it. Rage is a tough one for me. But it is important for me to acknowledge and share. It is also important for me to acknowledge the part of me that believes in the best of people. Both are true. Both are part of me.

Dear __________,

I know you’ve checked in on me. Secretly.

But algorithms don’t lie — the markers you leave trail back to you; the cairns point in your direction, even though you blocked me.

And since I know you’re still looking I need to say this because I am fucking angry and you matter to me.

I hope I infect your peace the way you infected mine.

I hope your time on the trail is forever haunted by me.

I hope you feel my touch in the wrong bed — at the absolute worst time.

I hope I show up where you least want me to — in the hush of your evening, during Eagles games, and in the moments when regret creeps in and you wonder how you fumbled so terribly.

And I hope you never, ever treat another woman the way you treated me.

I hope you take responsibility.

I hope you find integrity.

I hope you learn you are lovable without performance, control, or cruelty.

I hope shame pushes you toward something better.

Because contradiction lives in all of us: rage and tenderness, shadow and light. I can curse you and still name your goodness.

To me, there is nothing wrong with non-traditional love. Even ethical non-monogamy can be beautiful — when it is honest, when every person has agency.

What’s wrong is deception.

What’s wrong is stealing choice.

And that is exactly what you did.

You are better than this. Despite everything, I still see the good in you.

You are incredible.

Brave. Strong. Gifted.

Generous. Brilliant. Handsome. Funny.

Committed to excellence.

A Cycle-Breaker — like we talked about on the trail, like Bruce discusses in ‘Born to Run.’

Please break this cycle too.

Don’t let this be your secret legacy.

With enduring love,

K