dissipating love letter

Lady

I write this letter knowing I should probably never send it to you but if I want to be a real, true friend, we should put some stuff out there. You have asked me to back off and I guess that’s it for me, I will respect your wishes, and only send this letter in reply to any attempt to communicate on your part. I really wanted to be your friend, god knows I tried my best. And you know I have never really worked at anything in my life. But being your friend was worth it. For me being able to open up and be vulnerable to someone for the first time in my life was scary and yet exhilarating. I never felt judged by you, I always felt understood, but deep down I knew there was something wrong about it. I have started to realize how wrong I was about this friendship, but not because of me. While I will always admit my feelings exist and have been extremely visible and emoted in a way that might hurt you, that is not the only thing that hurt this friendship. Do you know you are the only person I have really ever been truly vulnerable and open to? And I cannot say with, because once you knew of my feelings you shut me out. And now not being judged by you just feels like you coped out and didn’t really invest in telling me if I was right or wrong, just simply trying to appease me. The only time you ever opened up to me after I shared my feelings with you, was the time I got you so angry by saying you were a coward. I do not understand why my feelings have this type of effect on you, when you have made it abundantly clear that you do not share them, I have accepted that and made it clear that I understand. Why could you not tell me that you felt weird by my letters? If you were really my friend you should have been honest. Especially if you were getting into a new and real relationship. Why didn’t you tell me that you were seeing someone? Were you afraid you’d hurt me? Maybe Lady, I probably would have cried myself to sleep for a while, but I’d move on, I’d be happy for you and understood that you needed that in your life. And that would have never been a reason for me to stop being your friend. Now I feel I can’t trust you at all. It’s always the same thing with you, cutting me out, making me be the one who has to try to mend shit even with all the baggage I have and making it all be my fault for being too open, like I do the things I do on purpose just to hurt you. You gave me shit for writing too much, you gave me shit for writing too little and too intense things. But a true friend would accept me how I am, not try to ask me to change who I basically am just to make things easier for them. You say this is no friendship because of what you know about me, and that those feelings make you have to work too hard, think too much, and I’m sorry to say this is no friendship because you made it that way. You say that you are afraid that what you say carries too much weight with me? Sorry kid, you are not the only one. What my best friends say carries a lot of weight with me, what my family says, what my sister says, what the people I care about and know care about me carries a lot of weight. It’s because I value their opinions and honestly believe they want the best for me. But that does not mean I will blindly do what they tell me. Do you think that I came to college just because you said I should? You are giving yourself too much credit. I said you gave me strength to do something, not that you are the only reason. My whole family, my friends, the people that really care about me and put up with my shit have been trying to convince me to do this. You just put the grain of sand that tipped the scale.

And news flash Lady, friendship does require work, it’s about caring for someone and being honest with them even if it hurts them. How can you expect me to be honest and open and real, and not accidentally let my feelings out? It’s surely much easier for you since you have no feelings at all for me, but even then you don’t really treat me as a friend most of the time. You hide behind the idea of not wanting to hurt me to avoid being hurt yourself. See you share stuff about yourself, you talk about things, but it’s always in such a guarded manner. I’m sorry but I have to call bullshit on you being afraid of hurting my feelings. Especially since like I already said I’ve repeated myself a bunch of times and told you that you don’t owe me shit. You are just afraid of being vulnerable to me, and I don’t understand why. All it makes me think is that you are still confused about your own feelings and are dumping it on me.

Was it just appeasement when you let me hold your hand? Was it just you feeling sorry for me when you kissed me back all those times? What was it Lady? Were you just throwing me a bone when you let me hold you in my arms and have sex with you, or when you let me put my hands down on you? I know you felt something, your heart racing, and your eyes closed as your lips barely parted waiting for me to kiss them or stealing breaths. Did it mean anything to you? Maybe it did, but then again you yourself have told me you are afraid to feel things. When you’d walk up to my desk and smile and tell me about your day? Were you just using me? When it was convenient and when it did not complicate your life at all I was useful? I know I wasn’t the only one who put out a hand for it to be held. I wasn’t he only one who put out lips to be kissed. I wasn’t the only one there or was I? What are you afraid of? Have I given you reasons to be afraid of me? Why do I scare you then? What of all of this scares you? Are you afraid I will leave? That I will blame you if things do not work?

You say you haven’t told this guy what I tell you. How can I believe you? How can I believe you when you find it so hard to be open and honest with me? Starting with the letter treatment after one of the first times you cut me out. The pattern just repeated itself, me saying things you found upsetting, you hiding away. How can I trust you when you can’t even call me out and be more honest to me about your own feelings? See that really confuses me, because if my behavior upsets you, wouldn’t a real friend be upfront about it? All of this is kind of driving me crazy, because I told you once that all I ever wanted from you was honesty. That’s the only reason I ever opened up to you in the first place. But you can’t be honest with me, and I am sorry to say that when you say you don’t want to hurt me, that’s just bullshit. When someone asks for the truth, they do it either prepared for it, or not. And if they are not prepared, they will just have to accept it. All of this just takes me to one conclusion Lady. You still haven’t sorted out your own feelings. If that’s the case, well there’s nothing that can be done. You can’t feel that way for me. After all you have reluctantly shared with me I know oh so clearly that you can’t. And I freak you out because I feel shit too much, I let the dam burst open and have relinquished control to who know what. And we will both overthink the shit out of everything and as I said end up hurting each other worse. All because of fear.

Or just forget about everything I have said. But one thing can’t be left unsaid, any relationship be it a friendship, romantic, platonic, whatever has to be built on trust, openness, honesty, acceptance and a little faith. Of all this, whatever happened between you and I, gave me, the most important thing I got from it was knowing that being vulnerable to someone isn’t something to be afraid of. Even if you choose the wrong person to be in that position with, the feeling of liberation, of recognition, I can’t describe how it has changed me. It has given me the courage to try to do all the things I had always been afraid of doing. If I am sorry about anything Lady, kiddo, it’s that I was not strong enough to be the person you could be vulnerable with. It hurts me even more that anything I have said here, that you did not have that trust, that little bit of faith to let yourself be vulnerable to me. Once you did, but as soon as you knew of my feelings, it was all broken. I know a lot of this has to do with your childhood, you were really open about it all, but you never were willing to really give me a chance to prove you wrong.

Look I will surely get over my feelings one day. Maybe one day I will be able to think of you and not feel like crying my heart out because I can’t be with you the way I would want to. Maybe one morning I will just wake up and not wonder if you are doing ok. Maybe that morning I will wake up and not feel sad because I just remembered we don’t talk anymore. Maybe one day I will be able to sleep without thinking of putting my arms around your waist and brushing your hair out of my face to kiss your neck, something I only had a chance to do so few times and yet understood to be such a vulnerable position. Maybe one day thinking about that won’t make me want to shed a tear. Maybe one day I will stop asking to any and every existing higher power to just rip my heart out and make me forget about everything I feel, to make me numb. Maybe one day I won’t be afraid to open myself up to others for fear that they may not like what they see or they can’t deal with what is there. Or maybe I won’t, but all I know is that there will always be an empty space in my heart were you once tried to get in, just to find it wanting. It makes me feel like I failed you somehow, and that makes me sad. Because I don’t want you to be afraid to be open for fear of being hurt. I don’t want you to believe that if something goes wrong it’s because it somehow is your fault. I don’t want you to be afraid to express yourself. I don’t want you to be afraid to your actions hurt people. I want you to understand that maybe they do, but that not doing anything can hurt even more. I want you to be happy, not because it would make me happy, but because it would make you happy. I don’t want you to make me happy either, I want you to be there to share my happiness. Happy with each other, for each other not just because of each other. Also I don’t expect you to love me back, I just want you to be able to love someone, be able to be that vulnerable, that exposed and just trust that person to be there when you need them to hold you or pick you up if you need help; not just because you are weak, but because sometimes we all need someone to help us with our burdens. People willing to share them, not just because doing it makes them happy or sad, or because it would make us happy or sad; but because they understand that sometimes we need help. That’s why when I say I love you or well, anyone really says it, it just does not mean a romantic feeling alone. Love is caring for someone who does not care for him or herself. Love is wanting someone to succeed not because it benefits me, but because I can see how hard they tried. Love is watching someone embraced with another, and smiling even through tears for their happiness, not because it made you feel anyway, but because they found something so precious together. Love is being able to write long letters and send them, even if the content might hurt, but the truth within will do so much for that person; it will make them grow, be better for it. Love is repeating something until the person you are talking to understands it. Love is giving up on fear, because any type of love can only be built upon trust and faith. Ironically love is to decide to never be really happy, because love is being so exposed to someone it hurts. But that pain, oh it can show you what it means to really be alive. Love is not about sex, I have learned this the hard way. Love is not about sleeping in someone’s arms. Love is not kisses in dark theaters or empty places. That’s why you can never un-love  someone.

So if knowing all of this, after reading my baring of the soul, you believe you can be that type of friend, good for you. If not, if all you can be is an acquaintance someone you can share big news and just general stuff, that’s also great. But one thing I can’t do Lady, is be your friend if you are going to pull away or cut me off every time you can’t deal with it. If you can’t promise me honesty, trust and truth; what the fuck are we supposed to do then? You are the last person I want to lie to and I had hoped you felt the same way about me. Only you don’t lie to me, you just hide from me which only makes me feel confused and hurt. The only way I can ever be honest and open with you is if I can trust you, and I don’t feel I can if I am afraid you will just run away. I could be that acquaintance that shares news if you wish, but I could and would never bare my feelings again in that case. I just can’t extend that trust if it will not be mutual. And I can’t deal with a coward.

flow

Somewhere, some when, shit will happen, of course it won't happen to me, never does, and maybe the problem really is that I don't want it to happen. I visited my family, well my blood relatives. You really can't call that a family. it's just a group of people who happen to share genes, but would no sooner fuck each other in the back if there was something in it for them, because that's what people do, go over anyone to get what they want, that's not being bitter, just being real about shit, someone told write anything you think of, even if 99.9% is shit, you might hit it with the 0.01%, this is obviously the former, but none the less it's refreshing for me, to just take a verbal dump or a written crap (both terms suck by the way), I don't trust people, and I continue to be proved right when I fuck up and let someone in, nope that’s bullshit, I’m just no good at loosing people, but then is anyone? I can’t count how many times I’ll end up going over any little tiny detail, no matter how unimportant, just to satisfy myself and find where I screwed up, even if I haven’t, the knowledge of maybe having done something wrong calms me, it makes it easier to digest the fact that I just didn’t work hard enough, or I don’t know, it’s just easier to give it a face, I’m kind of sad right now, I really miss her, but I’m afraid of saying anything, I’ll probably screw it up, I guess that’s why being passive, uninvolved, uninterested and un invested in life is so easy, there’s no room to make mistakes, to screw up, now I’m just talking shit, but if you think about it’ the idea is intriguing, attractive even, I am about to embark on a huge thing, well it’s not really big, but for a mouse, the cat’s footsteps are far apart, I’m not afraid to fail, not like I use to be, what I’m afraid is, am I doing this for me? For other people? Will it make me happy? Will I be able to complete this task, this time? It’s a lot to deal with, and there’s just one huge elephant in the room, I hope I can manage to work around it, even if for a while, fuck I miss you, I don’t understand why some people get under our skin, they crawl inside, move the furniture and just leave after eating all the good stuff, even if you move everything back to where it was supposed to be, it’s not the same, the place stinks of them, it’s alluringly obnoxious, disgustingly weak and yet empowering in its own twisted way, you know I think about you all the time right? Well I do, not that it matters really, because the saddest moment of actually having some sort of feeling, is realizing that the best thing you can do is just keep your fucking mouth shut, it’s for the best, that’s what a good person does, someone who cares, not walk away, just do the best for the one you care about, raise your fist without moving and scream silently, maybe let a tear drop down, blame it on the weather.

mussings

Look the thing is, sometimes all of this makes me feel like I’m on an island. Just throwing messages in bottles with hope they will be read. It’s not that I don’t believe you read them, or that you are really busy. But you said it yourself, being busy isn’t an excuse. If you wanted to make time you could. That’s not a knock on you, it’s just a fact. And I know you care, I believe you when you say so, but friends are supposed to be able to talk to each other. I can’t do all the talking by myself, is that communication? It's sad that the only times you've really been open is when you were angry and that one time you said you were a little drunk. But I also lie when I say I'm fine.

Look, you’re also being unfair when you ask me to always keep in touch. You know how I feel. I actually had made a descicion to not write or try to contact you while you were away, cut myself off for my own benefit. And you wrote and I couldn't follow through. I really am sorry if my feelings put pressure on you, I try not to, but I fail sometimes. But you put pressure on me by asking to keep in touch, and deal with the reality that you will usually not answer. Not because you don't want to, but because in all honesty I'm not a priority. And your signals are so confusing to me. You keep me at a distance, open up, close up, say things that really confuse me. Like telling me to look into around where you are going to be. What am I supposed to think? I guess you think it would be good for me, but don't you see the implications of telling me that? What else could I read into it? I know you meant it as a good idea for change for, because I know you don't have strong feelings about seeing me. That's hurtful to be honest.

How can I be open with you, when it’s precisely because I opened up so much to you that I started to feel the way I do. I’m not open like this with anyone, not ever with my best friend or my family. It’s not normal or fair to either one of us. I know you said it was not a problem for you to be a friend. Of course it’s not a problem because you never had any feelings for me. I know we could stop talking right now and it wouldn’t even faze you. You might be sad for a while, but you’d move on. Not because you’re heartless or cold, you’re just practical. I used to be like that, but you changed that in me. I’m not sure if it was a change for the best though. 

But that’s ok, shit happens right? I can’t blame you either. I’m not really going anywhere; I lack anything resembling a future. You on the other hand, have all these options in front of you. I’m happy about that, you deserve it, and you’ve worked for it. I guess this is my punishment for wasting my life. Karma’s a bitch sometimes, show me something I can never have, and that end up being the one thing I want.

Elizabeth

Hey beautiful! God that's so fucking corny, but shit I have no idea what to say. I just miss you. I'm sorry, I shouldn't say that, but it's true. I mean I shouldn’t say it because you don’t feel the same way, or more to the point because if I do I have to be willing to back it up. 

I would, and that’s the problem. I would find you, anywhere you were, just dump everything and follow you. But you won’t accept that, you can’t deal with my insanity. Because yes, I am fucking crazy, it’s just bat shit insane to say with all honesty and truthfulness that I would be willing to dump everything I have built, though not much it’s something, just to be with someone. You don’t believe that, I know because you’ve opened up to me in a way you haven’t with anyone else. Just like I did with you, and that just scared the crap out of you. It scared me to, but it scared me because I never thought I could feel this way about anyone. But maybe I’m wrong; it wouldn’t be the first time. Yet, I know when you don’t say something, when you choose to say something else, using your words ever so carefully, methodically avoiding the straight answers. Or then maybe you are just a psycho bitch, and I’m just a dumbass who can’t tell shit for gold. And yes, this is me overthinking shit as usual.

See I started this thinking about writing you a letter, one that could help me get out of this fuck-friend-zone shit nonsense. But I have so much to say, things that being the coward I am, I’ll just dump online, like my message in a binary bottle. Maybe you’ll read it, but I’m sure you won’t and that gives me some comfort. So in a roundabout way and I curse my fucking head for just dumping everything on paper, I just proved why you can’t really commit to trying to have a relationship with me. Shit just can’t work out between two cowards. I won’t give up, why? I know what I can do, I believe in myself now, because I have seen myself through you, the same way I hope to help you see yourself.

I could come up with thousands of different scenarios about what the fuck happened, they could all be right, and they are all wrong. I know that you love me; there I just fucking said it because I know you feel it, your eyes, your mind, you opened them to me just like I did to you, and I can read you like a fucking book; just like I said I loved you, and I freaked the fuck out of you. I’m just going to push all the god damn buttons, so fuck it. For us it can only be one of two things, you either feel the same way for me, or you hate me with all your guts. I can’t have it in the middle, I can’t play the friend, and you have to deal with your own feelings. I am not going to let you hide; you aren’t going to be the little coward you can become. Either you face up to your own feelings, or I know at least I helped you grow out of a scared pushover, someone who will realize she is so much more than she believes of herself. And you won’t let people walk over you, not anymore, because I don’t want you to be the kind of woman that needs a man to protect her. I know you can be the woman who can stand next to a man, both together walking forward hand in hand. That way at least I can have the chance to do for one last time, all I have wanted to do since the day I looked into your eyes and let you into my heart; not just help you achieve your goals, but help you become that person I know, the one you don’t show anyone else. So even if I don’t have the front side seat I want, my heart will be filled, and my sadness subdued by knowing you are happy.

That’s all I can say now.

Oh, and I do love you. Even if it scares you, because it still scares me; and that’s why I know it’s real.   

sleeping but not really

I miss you. It should be simple enough to say it to you. But I can’t, because you’ve cut yourself off from me. No, that wouldn’t be completely true; I just stopped trying, because you don’t care or you don’t want to show me you care. More likely all of this is in my head, but when I stay quiet and try to listen, I don’t hear anything. I understand, but I can’t keep hurting myself any longer, for nothing. Because you aren’t even a friend at this point, all we are is two people who got into each other’s pants and went our separate ways. 

Maybe all you did was make me feel good about myself, and all I did for you was give what you needed then. Just company, it’s all about selfishness for both then. Your fear and my ego, volatile and eager for company, guess it didn’t take much for them to match. All I know is we are both too immature to even try, I tried but in a foolish way. And yet it’s all still bullshit, because we could have tried harder, the right way. But it would have taken two and you let your fear beat you. Just as I have let my fear beat me and I continued to swim against all logic. Because I know your heart, your mind, and that’s why it hurts even more than it should to give up trying.

I miss seeing you walk through the door, brightening up anyone’s day with your endearing smile. It’s really the most common of thing, you know, the one’s you miss the most. Things like hearing about your day, or the funny thing that happened with one of your kids. I don’t regret what I said; I just realize that I said it for all the wrong reasons. And maybe it’s just best to let you fly away, because if what I said was true, this really is the only way to show you.

I know I don’t know everything about you, but I know you. You’ve told me about your hopes, your fears, and dreams; I may be lacking in details but the big picture is clear. I know you’re afraid. Elephants, purple (though I’m not sure, I regret not paying enough attention), H.P., your middle name (did you tell me you shared it with your mom?), music, television (like everyone, reality is a guilty pleasure), and underdogs. Like me. It’s the little things that I’m missing, because we showed each other the blurry edges of ourselves. And it’s those little things that keep me up at night, unable to sleep in an empty bed with only myself, and not you. I guess it’s stupid, because I only had a chance to hold you once, but it was enough to hook me. But not enough, and I’ve just been left wanting, even with the discomforts and annoying little shit, I just want all that shit.

All I know is, even if I never hear your voice, never get to see your beautiful eyes stare straight back at me peering into my soul, and never get to hold your hand with mine; I will never cease to think about all you meant, all you mean to me. Because though we may not be together, I let you into my heart, willingly but I can’t willingly cut you out without losing part of myself. That part that you saw, and liked, hated, appreciated, feared, who knows. I know so little and yet I think I know it all. Because I don’t totally know, maybe all you are is a lesson, a painful one though. 

And after these few and meaningless words, meaningless to what I really feel, I just can’t let it out. Maybe I’ll just have to come back to his every now and then and add a little more. Because I want to believe this story isn’t over, it’s all I can do to carry on; otherwise I don’t know what to do. So I guess this is a “to be continued….”. I don’t know why I don’t send this to you; I guess I’m just realizing you don’t give a shit and I’m the real coward here.

Hello? is there anybody out there? don't just nod if you can read me

Would you tell me if you read this?
Is it important that I want to know or even relevant?
Do you like what you read?
Maybe it's not important or relevant, but I'm curious, and I guess also a little nervous.
At least don't steal any good ideas, though they might be hard to come by around here.
And well, if you are interested and in Ecuador, I would be willing to supply coffee in exchange for feedback. It's an open offer, take care and thanks for just stopping by. 

dinner 2

The Peruvian restaurant was small, no more than 6 tables, and our group immediately took over all of them, there wouldn't be strangers around, and that was for the best. And so with a little help from the sparse service staff, we managed to join all the tables together in one long line. That way all 16 of us where able to sit comfortably, though not talk to everyone, but gather in smaller cliques. Everyone seemed so at ease by that time, so relieved of the day’s emotions. 

The tiny restaurant offered something of a safe heaven, where we could each unwind. I always tend to think back to that night with a mix of sadness and regret. It had been a particularly good tournament for me but I had fallen short as usual, and my friends had not fared any better.  So we traveled in small groups to fit better in the taxis, that also gave us time to grow reacquainted with our friends who we seldom had chance to see, mainly due to the distance between the capital city and our own port-side metropolis. Also it was a chance to meet new people, especially an exuberant brunet I had been chatting up for a while now. 

Frank and his son, Frankie Jr., sat on the opposite end of the table. Frank was a large man, with somber disposition when playing but of a loud and jovial character otherwise. We all had great hopes for junior, he was a surrogate son for most of us, one we had seen grow from a tiny to an all arms and legs skinny and sullen 15 year old. Most of us had immense hope, he had started playing as a 7 year old, that he would one day be great as a pro. 

After the corner seats Carl and Sid had sat together and were talking quite loudly of their tournament participation, or rather their lack of any tangible rewards after such a long day. Peter hadn’t been able to make the tournament and because of that I had been forced to room with Carl. But the hotel had screwed up, and put Carl and Sid with Christopher and dumped me. Luckily that would prove to be a stroke of luck later. Carl and Sid were crazy about anime, their respective collections were almost legendary amongst those who knew of them, and so was their interminable bachelorhood. 

Carl was a robust fella, but he had the sweetest face you would ever see on a 40 year old geek. He barely looked 30. His short height coupled with his long blonde locks and shaved face, help his case. Not like me, I refused to shave and my facial hair agreed and failed to grow noticeably for weeks on end. That’s also why I just cut my hair short; it’s easier to pretend to be happy when you don’t have to take care of yourself. We both looked alike, and yet I don't believe I have yet met anyone as different from me than Carl.

Gregg sat across from his wife, Andrea. They had married the year before, less than six months prior, so you could still see the shoot each other longing gazes. They had been dating for about three months, or maybe four, it was soon after she had broken up with Peter. They were that typical couple, everyone knows one like them, the pair that will definitely end up together. But it took them a few years to put all their shit together. I cheered in their direction, and Gregg responded with his own glass of pisco. 

I have a hard time remembering them ever being so happy again. A year after the dinner, they lost their first baby boy; they would lose 2 more before Andrea killed herself. Last time I ever saw Gregg was at her funeral, I don't think anybody else has ever seen him since.

I had cleverly managed to sit next to S, her haunting dark brown eyes covered, and yet perfectly framed, by her glasses. We had just talked a couple of times before I came to the city, she was very friendly, both of us also very flirty. I was feeling lonely and cut off, my job had been overwhelming me for the two months preceding the tournament. Long hours, coupled with continuous loss of contact with people, I was vulnerable. Plus really horny, and this girl had huge breasts. 

Sid had been giving me plenty of crap for not making the best of my chances, but I got one on him though. We had been exchanging messages on our phones, pretty nasty shit. So I just read out his messages, cleverly leaving my parts of the conversation out. It was a riot and S laughed out loud, and I could see a slight twinkle behind her black rimmed glasses, even as she slowly turned her eyes towards Laney. 

Danny sat across us with his girlfriend at the time, Dian, and he was entertaining us all with his travel stories. Danny was a man of the world. He had visited 3 continents before his 18th birthday and saw them all by the time he was 30. Dian was a beautiful woman, whose dark skin heavily accentuated her green eyes. She was Jamaican and they’d met in Mallorca, while Danny finished his first master's degree. I always thought Danny should have married her, though if they had settled down; it's hard to believe she would have been accepting of his taste for slim, dark young boys. Every time I have a chance to visit him in Boston, he and Mike, his partner, always have more stories to keeps us entertained for evenings with no end. 

Ralph sat 2 seats over, his wife Laney was sitting next to S and talking to her quite intently. Sonny was sitting next to Ralph, he was seething in silence, yet his demeanor didn’t betray this to the whole party. I could tell, it was definitely me he was angry with. I was extremely pissed off at Ralph for bringing Laney, she never fit in with the group and worst of all, she was monopolizing S cutting me of. At the time I didn't realize she did it all for Sonny. They had gone out for a while before she got into Ralph, and she knew he had a deep affection for Sabrina. She would have to work overtime to help him, S was easy going and I knew what buttons to push. 

Yuri was talking with Jorge and Jeffrey, all three were cheerfully recanting Jeffrey’s win in the finals over a young man named Robert. Roberta hadn’t been invited; I kind of regretted not insisting he come, since he was something a newbie to the tournament scene.