I only told the moon
Tonight up on the roof
I told her that I’m scared
That all my thoughts they look like you
I only told the moon
About the way you move
I asked her to please tell me if you tell things to her too
This was a good weekend, and a sorely needed one. We went to a state legislative forum on Saturday to let the Republicans know we were angry about the evisceration of collective bargaining (and the Democrats know we appreciated their efforts to delay), and hundreds of other people who were angry about the same things were also there, which was weirdly empowering. I actually wrote and posted something, which has been a struggle lately, and I played a new computer game for the first time since last March (The Stanley Parable) and started another (Bioshock Infinite). (New here means that I haven’t played them before, not that they didn’t come out years ago.)
After a week that featured two close-to-breakdown evenings, it’s good to feel a sense of calm. Don’t know that it will last - the world still sucks - but I’ll take it while I can get it.
Also, I have a backlog of stuff I’ve been meaning to post about and failing to get around to, and I’d like to resolve that. So, mostly for my own accountability, here’s my plan for posting stuff this week:
This is me pouring out my love, not the kind you think of, the mushy gushy romanticized crap you want. No, this is raw, unadulterated affection for you and your soul.
For the purposes of this letter, I am going to disregard the fact that you are ignoring me and that we do not talk anymore. That is irrelevant. We have both argued, screamed, apologized, and cried to each other too many times to count. Even if we did still talk, I would be saying this to you, maybe in different words, but telling you all the same.
Since the very first day we became friends, you have been a constant in my life, a constant amidst the tumult and drama of high school. You listened to me and offered advice with your perspective that is so opposite mine. I love the way you live in the moment and risk the superficial things that I hold dear. Being your friend made me come to the profound realization that life is so much more than turning in homework on time and getting straight As. Because of you, if a friend needs me the night before a paper is due, I will be there for my friend (hopefully I wrote the paper ahead of time).
You were the glue that held my life together when I was on the brink of destruction. Everything in my world was falling apart, but you and your friendship remained. I took that for granted. You taught me the value of true friendship, even if it does not last. I hope that I meant something to you, that I somehow repaid in part what you had given to me in full.
To this day, I still look for you in the hallways and listen for your voice among the tenors in choir. Even when we see each other or talk, it is all superficial. We barely graze the surface of what once existed.
I hate superficiality.
After three years, how could we, how could I, throw it all away?
Losing your friendship has been a process more painful than any breakup. It feels as if someone has taken a part of me; there is a hole in my soul where you once were. As if the physical pain was not enough, the process of emotional detachment from you has been long and rocky. After weeks without thinking of you, a single song or a memory or a Bible verse makes me recall how much I care for you, still, after all this time.
You know more about me than any other person on this earth. And even though you leave me behind, you will carry pieces of me with you forever. Treasure them. I do not regret giving them to you, for I trust you will keep those pieces of me safe.
Life is too short to be silent about the ones we love. The other day, I was thinking about the people I will miss most in college, and as much as I love my friends, I will miss you the most. I already miss you. I suppose our separation is merely a preparation for what is to come.
This is not a cry for you to come back to me, nor an invitation for a pity party on my behalf. We both know that “us” would never have worked in our favor. I just wanted to let you know how much you mean to me, and how much pain I am enduring as you ignore my snapchats and avoid eye contact. But still, this is not me trying to guilt you or regain your attention.
This is me telling you that I love you. Not as a boyfriend or as a lover or even as a friend. I love you as a person. You are so extraordinarily special, and I am blessed to have spent so much time with you as my best friend. I wish it did not have to end.
The first person I lost was my lover…
I cried for 165 days in a row and the first day I didn’t, I felt guilty; as if suffering somehow equated to love and the fact that I hadn’t cried meant I didn’t miss them enough and I never deserved them in the first place…
The next person I lost was my friend… Things happened… things went wrong… It felt like my whole life was falling apart and when all I wanted to do was turn to my best friend… I realized they were gone…
After that I lost my soulmate because I honestly think I lost a part of my soul. I’m not the same person anymore, a part of me is missing and I know I’ll never get it back…
And one day when I’m ready… I will lose one more person to the distant past… One day… I will lose the ghost of those three people.
The spectre I see sitting across from me at empty café tables, the one I turn to face at the punchline of every joke, and one I reach for in the within vast emptiness inside myself. One day that ever present shadow will fade away forever like the rest… but not yet. I‘m not ready to let that last echo fade… I’m still trying to reconcile the loss of the other three because they were all so much to lose…
And I lost them all within a single person.