C—
On formality,
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t prefer the effortless buoyancy of our text messages over these emails. But at the same time, I feel like you need the distance this kind of formality provides, or at least you have a much greater appreciation for it than I. It’s funny, we’re beyond a lot of things while being nowhere and nothing at all.
On “shoulds,”
I can play this out for the rest of my days. It’s hard to hear you say those things about yourself and recognize them as truths. As simply the way things are, as context. Not because I disagree (hell, it would be easier if I did), but because I deeply sympathize (whether or not you want or care for me to). This fierce desire to disprove ourselves pushes us forward. Which isn’t to say that I’m not glad this cycle is ending for you— I am. I care enough for you to want to see you thrive and move in a direction that feels right to you. In sorrow, seek else.
On unlikely confidants,
I’m very glad to be such. Please don’t hate yourself for this unraveling. You’re not being unfair to me, truly. I would let you know if I felt that way. True, I am not your therapist nor your lover, I did not ask for the retch or vomit, but I’m basking in it now. A fragment of a poem constructed mentally last night: let me bathe in the rain of you.
[Aside—
Again, I fear my words are off-putting in their sentimentality. I don’t know how to be honest otherwise.]
On “what if’s,”
We touched on this. And here I’m going to just reiterate your words while attempting to process them:
You beat yourself up for the daydreams.
Your attempts to reengage with me are not overtures for physical/romantic engagement.
You want to feel better about March.
You were wrong to lay the foundation for a house that cannot be built.
It is with this in mind that I proposed what I did. No, not a house (of cards, or otherwise— and to bid me ‘sweet dreams’ on such a cynical note!) I want something else entirely of, from, with you. But most of all, I don’t want you to feel bad about anything related to me. At the very least, I want you to be able to look back at all of this fondly.
On regret,
I, too, regret the circumstances. And in more ways than one, I’m enraged by them. There’s nothing to forgive. At least, not what you think. Same with the hurt. I don’t know what I deserve, only what I want. An educator, yes. A mentor, still. Emotional fluency beyond all else. An honest and sober (or: maddening, inebrious) friendship, absolutely. I have no designs to work against your designs. Dance your soft epilogue with J—, or let your stories continue & burn, burn, burn.
On continuing to share one another's light and warmth,
Please.