did you know i miss you? i miss you.

by snaggle at 06:51 PM on July 11, 2004

Note: inspired by Linz’s recent letters to people, I am here writing one that I’m unable to actually send because I don’t have an address for this person. Sorry if it’s a little self-indulgent. Soundtrack for this post: Konstantine by Something Corporate.

Dear Brady,

This is attempt number three at this letter. I know there’s no real possibility that you will actually read this, but I thought about writing it enough times that I had to get these words out of my head and into some written form just to put my mind at ease.

There is a lot I could say, a few things I could ask. I wish I knew why you decided to stop talking to me. Intuition tells me that it was an attempt to heal things between me and Clint – but that quagmire is beyond repair. He’s written me off and there’s nothing I can do about it. I’ve tried, apologized several times, but he’s locked into his idea of hating me, and you know what? If he’s that fixated on holding a grudge though the other party wants badly to rectify the situation, then that’s not a friend I want to have. I would like to go up to him and say, “How could I have known Brady and I would have connected better than you two did? Plus, Brady didn’t even really consider those two evenings with you ‘dates,’ really, just a chance to make friends in a new place. I’m sorry that he and I had more in common than you did with him.”

So that’s my guess as to why you haven’t returned my calls since you moved so suddenly back to Illinois. I could be wrong, but I suppose I’ll never really know.

I suppose next I just want to say ‘thank you.’ You wrote me in your letter, which I read and re-read again the other day, against my better judgment, that I helped you to remember the possibility of love. I didn’t realize until after you’d left town so unexpectedly that you did the same for me. We all have our melodramatic moments of thinking that there’s no such thing as love, that we’ll forever be alone – but I’d forgotten just how far those thoughts had actually permeated my being and lodged themselves in my world view, unseen termites, weakening my foundation. But you made me remember that at unexpected times, someone can come along and show you the path once again.

Maybe it’s better that it happened this way. At least I know now that my eyes are open and my heart is ready; I don’t think it had been for a long time. Sure, I dated a few guys in the past few years, but none of them I really opened my heart to. Looking inward, I think I really am ready now.

I still think about you too much. I remember the times we had together – a hug saying “Mine!”, dinner at my place… Why do I listen to ‘Konstantine’ every night before I go to bed? Why do I do that when the line “You’ve gotta get out, you can’t stand to see me shaking” makes me instantly think of the closest times we had when all I could do when I saw you tremble was to wrap you in my arms tighter, even though I knew that I was the reason for the trembling?

I was actually really worried about you. When you changed your voice mail greeting at least I knew you were okay. I still worry about you, though. You were so fragile, so needing, so deserving of someone to love you and care for you, someone for whom you opened their eyes again and made them remember what it’s like to really connect with a person. I hope you’ve found someone like that. I would be jealous, but you deserve it. You’ve been through too much.

I write this for me – for some closure. I think of you often – with a smile, always. I’m glad we had our (precious little) time together and I know it would be crazy to want anything else because hopefully I’ll be moving to the west coast before too long, with a real job and all. Even if our paths never cross again, I’ll remember you and I hope you think of me fondly. Thank you for being you and making me remember that there is good waiting for me.

Did you know I was falling in love with you?

Always,
s