That Same Sweetness

I honestly don't know what's caused this change in you. Don't get me wrong. I'm not complaining. It's just odd to see someone who is normally so angry and self-focused to suddenly express concern and sweetness toward me.

It reminds me of that night when I really got to know you for the first time. I saw that sweetness, that tenderness in you. In the days, weeks, and months to come, it disappeared, leaving me to think maybe I had imagined it. It's good to see it again, even if its unexplainable presence baffles me.

Maybe you remembered all those times I was there for you when you were having a rough go, even when you didn't want me to be. Maybe you figured it was time to return the favor.

Maybe you realized good friendship is hard to come by & one like mine doesn't happen often.

Well, whatever the reason, thanks.

Don't ever change.

Love you.
Mean it.

I Miss the Real You

Look,

I know we haven't known each other for very long and there are plenty of people who know you far better than I do. But don't you go telling me not to worry or that you're just fine cause I know you well enough to know that you're not. Something's off. Something's wrong.

And just because I don't know what it is or how I can help doesn't mean I don't care. You keep using excuses like you're working or you're busy with something but I've been around you before when you're working or your busy with something and it's different. You were happier, more willing to engage with others, with me. You'd share stories with us (you always have the best stories) or you'd be willing to weigh in on a crucial debate (like who is the best Batman villain if you exclude the Joker). Now you've become introspective, isolated. You've cut yourself off from everything around you and have become morose and melancholy. I'm worried about you, love. And don't tell me not to worry. I can't help it. I care about you, goddamnit. And I want to help, if you'd just let me in.

What makes me so worried is because this isn't the guy I know. When I first met you, you were so honest, so open about who you were. It was refreshing. Now you're closed off, not letting anyone in. What happened? What changed? I know that drive home was only one night but you've been honest and open with me since then.

I hope you know you've been one of the things I look forward to every day. I look forward to talking with you, to you making me laugh or smile. And now when I see you, it breaks my heart because I know you're hurting and I don't know how to help. I can't keep asking questions knowing I'll keep getting the same answers. And I can't keep buying you bottles, hoping that you'll figure a way out of your melancholy on your own. If you don't want me to help, that's fine. I get it. But please, let someone in long enough to help.

I miss you, the real you.

Love you.
Mean it.

Unabashed Honesty

Last night, I gave you a ride into Provo.

I've only seen you on occasion when we both happen to be working. But you've always made me laugh my favorite kind of laugh--a loud burst and then a sudden urge to stop being so loud since it may not be appropriate to laugh at such a comment. It reminds me of this friend (more than a friend, really) that I used to have. He could always get me to laugh like that.

I was surprised by how easy conversation came between the two of us. Maybe I'm just used to guys whose conversation skills are that of a highly intelligent rock. But what struck me was how real and genuine you were. I rarely meet anyone with that kind of unabashed honesty. It was refreshing and invigorating. There was no embarrassment from you telling me these personal stories and there was no embarrassment from me listening to them. I hope you understand how rare that is, especially from two people who don't know each other on any level deeper than acquaintance.

The more you talked about your life, the more intriguing you became to me. There was this underlying sadness yet tenderness within you that began to show itself the more you talked. I am a cynical when it comes to most things but listening to you, I could tell you are more than anything a good person who wants to do right.

I'm glad I gave you a ride into Provo and we had a chance to talk. It's always relieving to find someone who thinks and feels the same way I do. It helps make the idea of tomorrow that much more bearable.

Love you.
Mean it.

Thanks for Making Me Laugh

I don't know if you remember me. We really weren't friends, just casual acquaintances who happen to be in the same class. I mean, if it hadn't been for what's-her-name calling out my name as I walked by the ELC building, I don't think we would've ever spoken.

You and her were sitting on the bench outside the ELC building. I was walking from the Braithwaite building and she called out my name. I turned and she said something about wanting to let me know she wasn't personally attacking me in class when she made a comment about something I said. I laughed it off and said I didn't feel that way at all. I ended up talking to you two for a good bit. Even when she left, you and I continued to talk. I don't remember about what, exactly. I just remember enjoying it and laughing a lot.

I began to look forward to seeing you and talking to you after class. We always had fun when we'd talk. I started to think that maybe you were the type of person that could be good for me. When we'd talk about your mission to Austria and where you stood in regards to the church at that time in your life all seemed to echo my own life. It always feels so good to find someone who feels the same way you do on certain subjects, especially if those feelings are not the norm.

I don't know if you ever got my note explaining why I had to leave. Timian said she'd deliver it but I don't know if she ever really did. It's probably for the best. It was written only an hour after I lost everything. I was a mess and the note probably didn't make sense, if it was legible at all. I sometimes wonder if you noticed I stopped showing up to class, and if you did, if you wondered what happened to me. I wonder how long it took until you forgot about me all together.

I confess, I sort of forgot about you until today. I don't know why I suddenly thought of you. Maybe it was the hat I bought the other day. I decided to wear it and the first thought in my mind was Professor Nozomi, or however you spell her name. She wore a hat that was a little like the one I was wearing. It unfortunately gave me an instantaneous dislike for the hat (which is a pity since I do look decent in it). It was her class that was the cause of us meeting at all. It's weird how that works sometimes.

I doubt we'll ever see or hear from each other again. But where ever you ended up, I hope you're doing okay and that you're happy. I hope one day you do write stories for video games, like you always wanted to.

Thanks for making me laugh, James. Even if it was only for a few weeks.

Love you.
Mean it.

Letter To My First Love

Last night I found out you are getting married. After a brief conversation with an old friend, I found out it's one of those "have to get married" type of situations. You got your girlfriend pregnant, so you proposed. This friend of mine assured me that you two are in love and she really thinks it's going to work for you two. I hope she's right. I don't need to tell you the deck is stacked against you, but hey, you two could be the exception. I mean, after all you're in love.

I'm sorry if I sound bitter. I'm really not. Forgiving and forgetting has never been my strong suit. It's just when I heard the news of you and your fiance, I couldn't help but think that could have been us. If we would have stayed together, it's more than likely that we would've wound up pregnant years ago. Thank God for little miracles, I guess. I think you know as well as I do that would've been a horrible situation, not only for you and I but for the kid we would've brought into this world.

But maybe you and your fiance will make it work. My friend kept telling me you two are really in love. But I just kept thinking that you and I were in love and look how that turned out. All the anger and hatred, the lies and secrets, the bitterness and the petty attacks at one another, that isn't how love is suppose end up. Despite everything that happened, I'll never deny we were in love. Did you know I still wear the claddagh ring you gave me years ago? Each one of my rings is from a significant point in my life. That one is from the first time I was ever in love. Now, nearly five years later, you're getting married, about to be a husband and a father, and I'm still trying to decide if love is really all it's cracked up to be. I've only been in love twice in my life and both times nearly destroyed me when they fell apart. I'm starting to feel like if you love someone that passionately and fervently, then when it ends it has to be just as powerful and packed with emotion. Is it even worth it then?

Despite everything that has happened between us, I really do hope things work out for you and your new family. Maybe you'll prove everyone wrong. I really hope you do.

Love you.
Mean it.

Let Me Know You're Okay

I know you wouldn't believe me if I told you I missed you. You'd probably tell me you weren't worth missing. But you are. And I do.

The weeks ago we were talking about you having too much baggage for anyone to be interested in you. I tried to convince you that everyone has baggage, everyone has scars. You told me not all scars heal and not letting people into your life has been working for you so far, though you later confessed you didn't think it'd always work.

Then I told you something I've wanted to tell you for awhile. There are people who want to be close to you when you're ready to let them in. You replied that it might be awhile but I said they know that and are willing to wait. You asked me what I meant by "they," even though you knew I meant me.  I know you don't let people become close to you and I understand why. But I promise I'll be here when you're ready to let me in. I'm not going anywhere.

Last night I told you that you've seemed distant lately. I asked if there was a particular reason for it. You told me you had a lot on your mind and you have been laying low and ignoring everybody. That's fair enough, I suppose. It just worries me. I know you've told me several times not to, but I really can't help it. The less I hear from you the more I worry. That old idiom about how "no news is good news" is full of shit. No news scares the hell out of me. I know I can't force you to talk, and texting is a pretty lousy form of communication to begin with, but I hope someday soon you'll send me a message. It doesn't have to be long or complicated. Hell, it can just be, "I'm doing alright" like that one Format song. If you'd send me something, I'll trust you and believe you when you say you're okay.

Love you.
Mean it.

My Atticus pt. 2

I don't know how you do it, Atti.

You're there for me when I need you to tell me what to do or just to let me know things are going to work out. I mean, you don't even say anything that I don't already know. But hearing you say it always makes me feel better. You're straightforward and honest. But you believe in me. Sometimes it feels like you have more confidence in me than I do. But I'm glad you do.

It's getting harder, Atti. Harder to see purpose in what I'm doing.  I feel like I'm trapped in a perpetual state of 3 a.m. and I can't seem to find my way to tomorrow.  Every morning is suppose to bring me new energy, new strength to keep going, to become someone I've always wanted to be. But lately I awake to mornings lacking connection, lacking a sense of familiarity. I wake up and it's like I never slept. My ambition feels more like a burden than a motivator and part of me thinks I can't make it happen, I can't be successful in my passion.

That's why I love you, I guess. You believe in me more than most people. And you remind me why I should believe in myself. You once told me I'm too hard on myself and I have to live in a world that never reaches my expectations. Both are true, they've always been true I guess. Maybe I need to be less critical of myself and the world. Or maybe I just need you around more often to remind me to stop seeing the darkness and look for the light.

If I ever do write a book, I might dedicate to "my yellow bird." You deserve it more than most in my life.

Love you.
Mean it.

My Atticus pt. 1

I like how we've been talking again.

I mean, we didn't stop talking because we got in a fight or anything. We both were just busy with our lives. It happens. But I'm glad we're talking again, even if it's just texting and facebook, which really doesn't qualify as "talking." It's more like communicating. But whatever it is, I'm glad it's back.

I had forgotten how good it is to talk to you. You always manage to make me smile. Part of it is from how well I know you. I can imagine exactly how you would say a text I receive. The other part is how well you know me. You can often predict what I'm going to say or how I'm going to react. That's a nice feeling. I never realized how wonderful it feels to have someone who knows every detail about you not because you keep reminding them but because they pay attention.

Things have been going well for me. Despite all the shit I've had to deal with for the past seven months, one week, and four days, things seem to be getting back to an elevated normal. I say elevated because my "normal" usually consists of frequent bouts of depression. But lately, I feel like I'm falling in love with my life once again. You know better than most how tempestuous my relationship has been with my life. But right now, I feel as though I am in a perpetual state of falling in love.

Remember the other day I was talking to you about that guy I had re-met? We'll call him "Thomas." We've had a chance to spend a bit more time together. And the more I think about it, the more he reminds me of you. He's intelligent, cultured, poetic, well-read, and a true-romantic at heart. But where you have an overall lighthearted, satisfied disposition, Thomas is more melancholy and pensive. If you'll excuse my lame attempt at being poetic, his temperament feels like that of a passionate lover who suffers from unrequited love or unmitigated circumstances. He constantly faces situations and circumstances that do not live up to his hopes and it leaves him feeling dejected, as if he's starting to believe his hopes cannot exist in this world. He suffers for his passion. When he does love, he loves so fervently, so intensely that it borders on that of a consuming insanity. It reminds me of something Françoise Sagan once said,

"I have loved to the point of madness, that which is called madness, 

that which to me is the only sensible way to love."

Yes, he burns with a passion that might one day destroy him, but he cannot see the point in loving any other way. Of all the people I can think of, you probably understand his perspective the best and why I would find it intriguing & irresistible. I have been single for over a year now and while it has been hard, it has never truly bothered me because I never found anyone interesting enough to consider being with, until Thomas showed up in my life again. Part of me wishes he hadn't. I don't know if I can handle waiting and seeing if he could ever become interested in me. Yesterday you told me a french saying,

"La faim est la meilleure sauce--Hunger is the best sauce"

God, I hope you're right.

I hope you know how important you are to me. It's funny. We met by the most random of circumstances and now you are one of the very, very few people I completely trust in this world. If I never get a chance to tell you, thank you being "my Atticus" no matter what happened.

Love you.
Mean it. 

You're a Puzzle I Can't Solve

Your last message has me worried.

You said you were having some issues and you couldn't talk for a while. You said you would explain it all later. I don't want to pry into things that aren't my business, but now knowing what's going on or if you're even okay is torturous.

You probably think I'm being silly. We barely know each other. Or rather, we don't know each other well enough to warrant me worrying like this. We see each other for two hours once a week and most of that time is spent pretending to be other people. It hasn't given me much to go on and texts exchanged at night are providing me with very little insight. You're like this puzzle that I'm insatiably intrigued by, partly because you are a puzzle I can't seem to solve. So many people I can read and figure out fairly quickly. After that, if I continue to spend time with them, it's because I like them. It's that initial intrigue that catches me. It's liking them that keeps me. But you, you continue to perplex me. I can't figure you out. And the harder I try, the more intrigued I become.

What I'm trying to say is no, I don't know you.
But I want to.
In no uncertain terms, I want to understand you. I want to figure you out.
Because I have this feeling that you may be one of the only people really worth figuring out.

Love you.
Mean it.