May 6, 2005

A Letter to L

[Some Portions Redacted For Privacy]

I don't know what to say; I don't know you enough to really make any sort of judgment, or gleam some sort of advice from my lack of full understanding. But I can tell you that I felt quite sad reading your post. Not exactly a bad sad, but not exactly a good sort of melancholy, either. Existence likes to culminate onto that moment when that feeling oppresses and releases at the same time.

But the words brought me back, way back, to a time where this most definitely applied to me. I was in your shoes, effectively. There is nothing I regret, except that one time. What I did made the relationship irrepairable. No matter how many letters I may send, or how many calls she might make, or how many midnight rendezvous', 'tis never to be the same. I simply just pushed her away, and there she stayed. Perhaps further now, this day. I suppose I was too afraid of a future with her: so I evaded, badly. Someone said something about time and healing and wounds, and I can say that it isn't true. At least, not true for people like you and I. Some nights, I picture her weeping, and it kills.

You care for him, right? And he cares for you. Go with it, don't let it go. Just keep those moments as moments, not part of the equation. If it has to end, okay, sure. But not with that doubt, with that duality, that tear in the fabric. It eats away at the self, no matter how much you tell it that it needs to subsist on a proletariat-esque consciousness. Your minds need more than that.

Unless there's some greater conflict there vying for your heart, you shouldn't punish yourselves.

And I could be wrong. That desire you had for him could be completely gone. For that, I have no words except to say that perhaps he wasn't strong enough to nod his head and understand and care enough to step back. I don't know, so I'll say no more.

But that's all I have, and I hope all goes to a better degree for you. In that space between matter, there is only thought. Thought broken and repaired by time. A hundred thousand thoughts can occur, but only one movement, and it has to be the right one.