Prospect Park, Brooklyn
Dear 3:14 PM,
I could never be convinced to love you. I know this is probably not what you want to hear and you may not buy it, but this is reality. If I spent all of my leisure time lying to myself I would still not be able to make this one true. I am honestly unsure and deeply confused about what the rest of the world thinks they see in you. I will never understand all of the men who hang their drunken, misplaced gazes of lust upon you. I am also lost on the women who let envy direct their interactions with you. These people have allowed themselves to be bamboozled by who they think you are. Their minds are poisoned by versions of who they would like you to be. They have you wrong. My eyes never lie to me when I look into you. I always see you.
Since coming to really know you, my life has taken an unrecognizable shape. Parts of me have been shifted, displaced, and erased in ways I did not expect. I have developed a list of grievances against you. I don't care if I am taken to be childish. I have kept a detailed accounting, a closet of evidence that illustrates the effects you have had on me as a person. I think it is very human to believe that we are always in control and free from the influence of the people we keep near us. We tell our selves lies of emotional invincibility to keep from admitting obvious facts; we are not islands, we can succumb under influence. I lied to myself and I was wrong.
Regardless of the distance and silence between us, or futile displays of strength from me, I always found a way back to you. I wanted to be near you and tied tightly into the details of your life. Vulnerability was very easy with you. I poured myself in to you and you kept me. You were obviously someone who I knew would be dangerous and difficult to love. Life could not be the same after you, and it is not. I was fine before you. Since you, I cannot even remember what fine feels like.
Before I learned to recognize the nature and language of your heart my life was good. I mean, I was really fine. I had people who cared about me, made a decent living and was on a clear path toward an undisturbed complacency. Then during dead of winter this plan evaporated. Somewhere during that season, over countless dinners, Chicken and Waffles became associated with an open heart and we no longer came together for the food, but for the sustenance. We built a deeper connection. You became necessary. I moved far from comfort with the ideas of the day, and I could no longer believe in simply loving and leaving women. I did not support the ubiquitous practice of seasonal affairs. Keep the warm body for the winter and jettison the weak connection when the coats come off. Take the body; break the heart. I had been living unchallenged and housing uninspired ideas of love, then over a candle's light you reminded me of what it felt like to be fueled and fed by the right woman.
Sustenance Session in LES
I rediscovered that the best parts of me were missing when I moved closer to you. My prayer for a companion was sitting across the table from me, a woman who was made for me to dream beside and not sleep with. You arrived as a blessing to reawaken my heart and move my blood back to where it belonged. Without effort you touched you my mind and I stopped fighting your inspiration. Sitting across from you that Winter, I wanted Summer to come just so our options for adventure could open up. I knew you would be here. I would find a way to keep you close.
I was fine when I met you and after you I have learned to dislike the idea. I was not made to be fine. You have convinced me with the level of unreasonable happiness you've made me to feel everyday. I was previously afraid of having someone like you, of holding something so precious that could be lost. I was fully informed of the sort of damage that could result from such a situation. But fear took a back seat with you.
I made a list of grievances that are not my own. It is for all of the women who would have once been good enough. It is in reality simply a list of happiness found with you and records of how I'm moved to do better each day. The list continues to grow and will soon be long enough to write you a novel, not just a letter.
You look my way and understand how I am feeling. You have read every word before it was written, for you my face is the page. You even accept and process my incoherence. You get me, so I don't often tell you things but silence should not be our standard. This letter is practice at not always bottling my emotion and making you guess just how important you are. This letter, is about the vapid and hollow feeling I get at the thought of you not being here. I can be actively selfish with your time and influence when you allow me to. I take advantage of this and often want to occupy your space because no matter how we look at our lives, there are no promises.
Somewhere in our history your happiness was plugged in to my own. Now your eyes always tell me the truth, even the details that your smile belies. This is when I knew there was no coming back. At exactly this moment I started to think about losing you. Occasionally my imagination goes over how thoroughly unraveled my life would become without you. This only happens with the people I hold dearest. My heart knows when it is love. My mind is aware of where I should stay. This is a strange measure of depth I know, but there is no pain greater than loss, and I can't think of a more active motivator than the threat of absence. Proximity inflicts a special kind of injury; a version of pain that forgets that two people were once strangers. Close losses are the worst. Losing a contest decided in the final seconds is always more taxing than a drubbing. Losing is not what's on my mind though, these thoughts serve to remind me that you are a blessing and should never be taken for granted.
When I look at you I am positive that I have never seen another person more clearly, not yet anyway. I do not know who the world believes they see, but it is not the woman my eyes take in. I really know this woman; I know you. You are the illustration of a proverb; there is a simple truth and depth in your beauty. I understand the complex, powerful and unchainable nature of you. I do not ignore your vulnerability though, I always see it. It is the source of your strength. I plan the future with you and I am inspired to stretch every waking moment of my day in order not to waist your inspiration. I find a better version of myself in your eyes.
The next time we break bread, If my looks are deep and piercing it is because I am happy to be with you. If I study you a little longer than usual, know that I am only appreciating God sharing his definition of answer. When I reach out to touch you, to thank you for being you, now you will know why. I will probably never string together those words that are used so often that they can be dull and common in their impact. Words that land on deaf and knowing ears. You've heard it all before, so you know I won't say it. I can never be convinced to love you, for I have never needed convincing with you. I already sometimes think of losing you.
All of me,
-M