Dear Mike,
I hope you find peace and solace in the words the come, and I hope they make you feel the warmth that is being embraced by honesty.
I love you. I love the way you open your heart, let me in, and then open mine. I love the way you make me feel when I feel everything and when I feel nothing. I love the way you love.
But most of all, I love you. The good, the bad, and the ugly you. The you in sickness lying at home, and the you in health climbing those trails with me. The you at Eleven Madison Park, and the you at Newton Hawker Center. The you of Czardas and the you of Cardi B. The unabashedly wholesome real what-you-see-is-what-you-get-you.
I wish I were big enough for you. I wish I were not the morsel of fast-evaporating droplet of dew in the ocean that you are. I wish I were a museum for your display of spectacularity while all I am is an empty gallery hallway with scattered sad crooked frames. I wish I were not pitiful crumpling pieces of chopped nuts carelessly thrown on top of your fancy cake.
But I also wish I were small enough for you. I wish I could dissolve myself into nothingness and become one with you. I wish I were that one polaroid you keep in your pocket. I wish I were a drop of blood in your vein rushing straight to your heart.
I have been big for you and I have been small for you. I have been big when you’d rather I stay small and I have been small when you wish I were big. I have been myself and I have not been myself when I’m with you.
And I can’t do it anymore.
Maybe it’s time I found comfort in the knowledge that what we are is not for each other. We have been out of tune every moment we are together. Our harmonies at best are discordant cacophony of regrets and heartbreaks. Our laughters are one-sided and void-expanding. Our memories are unstringed moments of elusive happiness frantically and forcefully pieced together in a last-minute effort to bury gigantic mountains of discomfort below.
Maybe it’s time you found comfort in the knowledge that some of us are not meant to be no matter how hard we try... that you are a wholesome individual with or without the entirety of me or anything of me at all... that your happiness -- the kind that tingles your bone marrow and crinkles your heart -- is still yet to come… that someone else will bring you that.
I have loved you, Mike. I have found myself in loving you. I have done my best. I know you have too. But I have known that where I truly belong is not with you. And so with all that is left between us -- lots of unwavering care and unscathed respect -- I must move on. I urge you do too.
I’m sorry my best efforts couldn’t give you what you wanted. I have held on for as long as I could, for as strong as I should. So before I drag you down, I’m letting go today. Tomorrow, you need to wake up, and you need to take in a deep breath, and you need to lay your hand over your chest, feel that heartbeat and know that you have it in you to love again.
My next days will be filled with peace to the brim because I know you deserve love and you soon will find it in someone out there. I hope yours will be too, for the same knowledge and the reality that’s bound to come.
Wishfully yours,
B
