2001-10-17
9:57 p.m.

how does one go about writing honesty letters? brandon tells me it's impossible. i know exactly what i want to say. many of the things i include might be upsetting or wrong or hurtful, but i just want to be honest, lay my cards on the table and say "this is how it is..."

i have one very important one to write...and one that might be better off just not getting written...because half of it is so horrible a thing to say, so self deprecating that the half that apologizes may not even be worthwhile. both of these letters will make me look like the person i am, weak-willed, capricious, sluttish...i wish there were an easy way to do this....but i think sticking my figurative dick on the line is the only way. if it is, so be it.

You guys, I'm so sorry.

---

And a decade later, this sentiment holds true, so here goes. Honesty letter to CB:

Dear Sir,

Over these past few years we have followed the life cycle of some sort of non-indigenous plant attempting to lay down roots in hostile soil. From a healthy cutting to a year of winter to some sort of lead up to blossom to a monsoon, we have weathered. And now, what we have is a spindly, deeply rooted and ultimately interminable life.

The problem is, I love you so much. The weight of these feelings is heavy and sometimes I feel like I am drowning in want for you. I don't even think you can fathom how deeply I care about you, how much I ache for you and I do not know why. I don't think you are capable of feeling the same love for me, and in fact, you have told me as much. You have bet against us. You do not believe in us. You put us in a position to remain exactly what you imply is cheap but I am beginning to believe is exactly what you want. Every statement you've made expressing doubts about me appear to be projections of your own feelings, particularly when you worry that I am using you, but you use me. The calls come, the requests come and I oblige, any time. We are both mirrors, darling. But when both of us strive to reflect, the image refracts.

I appreciate that in recent months, we have developed what may be considered a true friendship; you have opened up to me about your life and talk to me about your hopes and fears. You have asked me questions and listened to my answers, expressed concern for my choices and seemingly taken into account some of the requests I have made. That said, you have also told me you are using me, have told me I ruin your life and waste your time, have told me you will never give me an equal partnership, although you have said you desire a partner. Perhaps this giant love I hold for you, this wellspring of unconditional, unfounded feeling is what bothers you. Perhaps, as you've said, you are still hung up elsewhere. Perhaps I am, as always, expertly playing the part of the fool. When I planned something I thought you would genuinely like, you reacted to it as though I handed you an unpinned grenade. You blame me and call me a jerk, but the truth is you had opportunities to cut and run and chose not to. The truth is you do not want to. And as we become better friends I can see that your life is a shipwreck and the reason time disappears with me is because I am a taste of oxygen, the freedom you once had and a life you don't wish for anymore.

I can't let you go because you told me you were in love with me. Then you told me you meant it. Then you gave me shit for not saying it. But I said it first, a hundred times in my heart and head and songs and in a horrible text message the night I tried to say it out loud and it came out as panicked tears of frustration. And I might not have had reason to say it then but the more I know you and talk to you and spend time with you the more reinforced those feelings are. You are so smart and clever and funny and just a little bit mean, everything you do is a little bit magical to me. You make me nervous, petrified, paralyzed. It's amazing that after all these years, just a text message from you can make my heart panic in my chest, sending jolts to the tips of my fingers and taking an hour for the adrenaline to wear off. Seeing you is sunshine. I loathe to wash your smell from my sheets, my fingers, my hair. There are times when we are sitting in a car or you are sitting in my living room that I think to myself that this must be a dream to have you so close to me and talking to me and telling me nice things. I'm so much more comfortable when you are being mean because I can fathom the abuse but not the compliments. I can't let you go because every awful thing I do is because I always worry I'll never see you again and I need to get as much as possible from you before you disappear forever. I can't let go because whenever you ask me what I plan to do and tell me not to chase money I want to tell you I'm chasing you but I don't make any gains. If I lose you, believe me money will be cold comfort, but necessary to get me far enough away from everything that reminds me of you.

And yet, it's like I don't know you at all sometimes. Most of your life is still a mystery to me. When I hear that other people have talked to you, I feel an (admittedly) insane jealousy because they got to talk to you that day and I didn't. When you disappear for weeks and ignore me, I am filled with an overwhelming feeling of defeat. I feel too much, all the time, and you make me feel ten times more than anyone else has before which is scary. I crave you like a junkie. I lie and cheat to try and sate my need. It is really hard for me to admit that I need you, that I need more from you and worse to know that admitting any of these crazy things will send you running. We are the same in so many ways, but I believe the worst is that we are both so cagey. I try to play myself to be much cooler than what I am in actuality. And ordinarily I am not needy, the things I say are the things I usually think, which is why they fall out of my mouth so easily. But to be clear, this is more than sex for me. It is why I am completely uninterested in meeting new people and why nothing else takes priority. The trouble is, I'm not good at these things. I am a torrid affair, a great story, but I'm not the girl of anybody's dreams. I have no practice playing house and hanging out and just being part of a low-key stable relationship. And you should know, since you've been my focal point for the past four years.

There is a limit to honesty though, and I feel as if I've put down almost all the cards in my deck, so I'll keep a few to my chest, the ones you don't need to see. I will continue to attempt to be what I you need me to be: simultaneously committed and breezy. That said, it's damn near impossible for me, and forgive me if I fuck it up. I love you, I'm working on it and I'm in it for the long haul, so stock up on mountain dew and climb your ass up in this cab. I'm the only one who can get hurt on this little adventure, since I'm the only one who is committed fully.

<3
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