8.23.29

There are so many things I wish I could say to you. But, in staying true to character, I'm holding back, so far back that you'll never see what it is I'm holding.

I don't think I deserve such a sympathy. Although, that assumes that, if you knew what I was thinking, you'd forgive me. Which might not happen. It might make you hate me more. I wouldn't blame you. I'm not really sure what you saw in me in the first place.

I had a sort-of plan to leave you. It'd flit in and out of my vision, depending on how much I liked you that day. I was still getting to know you. There were a lot of things I liked, and the rest was online. I can't pay attention online. I've described the process to you. But the instant a screen is in the way, I cannot comprehend the way I would in person. God, this sounds like an excuse. And maybe it is, I can't recall. But I feel like when you'd info-dump to me in person, I'd get a sense of it? At the very least, it felt like I was there. Online, it's like you're the video essayist and I'm the camera. To quote what you said, I could be anyone and you wouldn't notice. I suspected that in talking to me, you enjoyed talking more than you enjoyed to me. 

I guess that's the first splinter, and it goes both ways, is that digitally there's no real way to tell how much you care. I vaguely suspected you loved me, but I didn't have proof that you loved me in the way I defined it. How do I define love? It's a choice, to find each other in the light and when things go badly, to be by each other's side. I love my family because I see them often and I've known them long enough that I have a sense of who they are when I don't see them. And we're working on stuff together. I can't see you, Evie. I wish I could, but I can't express to you how the digital medium destroys your visage. There's this look you get in your eye, when we're in person, and it says so much even though a single word doesn't leave your mouth. I haven't seen that look in four months. I don't even know if it's real anymore, or if it was something I made up the first time we kissed. 

But at the root of it is my issue. You'll never read this so I'll use my esoteric song references. I only wanted you when it was convenient. And I think about this Julia Michaels song, where she says that-- "I like boys with big lips that treat me like shit / who only want my hips when it's convenient for them." I never wanted to be that person, but I became that. And that's part of why I broke it off. I was looking for convenience. You said I stopped seeing you in the past month, and I'll tell you what happened that month: I went back from working 3 days / week to 4, I spent a couple off-days visiting my friends, the power went out, I packed for college, then I went to college, reconnected with old friends, attended club fairs, attended career fairs, applied to jobs, attended classes, and started homework. And that's a lot of stuff that happened, stuff that was beyond my control, and stuff that you think I handled poorly.

"Stuff that you think"-- so I disagree? Yes and no. Yes I handled it poorly, but I think I only could have done it better with foresight. How's one to know that I'd have the middle of the day Tuesday to chat with you? And how could I have predicted that I'd deliberate over an honors' assignment that turned out to be nothing because I could come up with a project later? That says a lot about my character, indisputable things: I wanted to see my friends when I got to school, I try really hard at school and sometimes overdo things. These aren't mistakes I can afford to make when I'm trying to be in a long-distance relationship. You wanted me to try more, and I want my degree. I don't think I could have maintained things in the sorry state they were in, while adding college and a job.

Maybe I would have balanced it by October. But you don't want an October girlfriend, you want a good girlfriend. You asked me if I could be better, but the answer was no. And thus, the answer of whether I'd stay with you is no. I did you a favor.

I don't know why you had to say you loved me. How can you love me if you hate everything about me? You listed out all the things I did wrong and said I can't try to fix it, or address it, or excuse it. You didn't want my excuses, just a change in behavior. I don't understand how that can be love. Is love control to you? Is love sacrifice? You wanted me to reciprocate how you felt for me-- did you feel so strong that reciprocation meant razing my entire self and fitting it to your mold? That reciprocation meant clearing my schedule to fly to Texas? I didn't know you expected me to do that, by the way. I clearly said no. I thought you'd understand.

But I guess my ... affection was passive. That's why I hesitate to call it love: it certainly doesn't match up to your expectations. I cared for you in the sense that I took notes on your infodumps, even though I don't give a damn shit about any show that I haven't yet watched. And you expected me to remember your characters -- which I think is unreasonable -- so I researched them and wrote down information about them and tried my damn best to know everything about your imaginary worlds, so I could be a good partner for ten minutes until you went onto the next and the memorization routine resumed.

I never told you about my day, did I? I didn't think you'd want to listen. That's the hurt talking. But you'll never read this, so I suppose I'll tell you here. Thus proving you wrong -- "you'll either tell me or you won't" -- well what about a Schroedinger's tell, where the words are all here, but only if you're clever enough to piece together the name of my secret Wattpad?

You asked on Sunday. So I'll tell you about that through today.

It started with the festival: rows of chairs set up, and smiling faces behind them. The place was crawling with people. It was 3PM and I'd hardly eaten, save for a couple handfuls of rice that my shaking hands had wrest from the container of takeout. (My meal plan calculations hadn't started until Monday and I'd rather tear myself to pieces than take a risk that could hurt more people than just me. That risk would be extra debt). I was rounding a corner and I'd been searching faces, hoping to make some friends, figure out who to scope out and talk to. Cause it's difficult, you know? And I kept seeing all these happy couples. And I know it's dumb to be mad at couples for being happy, but god I hated every single lesbian I saw that day. To see two girls, hand in hand, shoulders bumping into each other because they're so happy to see each other after a summer off, and to know that that had been stolen from me, all because of the repercussions of my ancestors. (Perhaps this is reparations, is that I have only enough generational wealth for me, so I watch you suffer and I'm powerless). 

I met with Angelo, and his friend Owen. Angelo calls Owen Twig or Shaggy, and I think either fits. He's tall and skinny, with long blond hair, and kind of a quiet, reactive personality. Maybe that's how you felt meeting me. Like yeah, he's not pleasing to the eyes, but he's usable and maybe if he kept his mouth shut I'd like him. I'm sorry. I still deep down suspect that you don't need me and you're finally realizing it. And maybe if you don't need me then you'll find all the (very valid) reasons to hate me and any hope at reconciliation in January is just as foolish as it feels now.

Uh, and we went about the festival. I don't think much happened there. They were loathsome boring, and as they discussed mutual friends I vaguely wondered why my companions were chummy with thirteen year olds. It only felt creepy later when I joined a voice chat with them, to play that drawing telephone game, and saw how Angelo had this weird level of controlling "server dad" energy around them. I don't know, maybe it's a cultural thing. I was never close with my cousins.

And then I talked to Addison later that night. She finally arrived, and we had a lot to catch up on. We get together so well, in the strangest way. Cause when I visited her house, it felt dry and soulless, and I couldn't come up with anything to say. But in the dorms we can talk for hours. And deep down I think I replaced you with her, a little. Not all the way. But, she's got that weird habit of not finishing a conversation when she really ought to. Though she talks way less than you do and her personality is rather loosely defined. It feels wrong to live with her because if I loved you then I'd live with you. But, I only knew you for a month.

I've got to wrap this up. It's nearly midnight, I've got to wake in nine hours. Yesterday I had so many classes, and met with Arwen, and stopped by Quickly for a job application, and sent an application to the library. And chatted with professors and TA's because I'm trying to kiss up to them for honors. I hate being rushed out of things, like when I tried to break up with you and had to race out of the room, peer in doorways, run up a floor so I could find an empty space. 

And you know, it's weird. Being in the cafeteria, I pretended you were there. Like, I sat down early, and you weren't there yet, so I thought to myself oh, she's going back to grab something else. And then when I packed up and left, I thought huh, I'd meet her on the way out, perhaps. "Chasing shadows in the grocery line," you'd be waiting for a burger and I'd meet you there and remark to you how they changed the design of the place. I haven't really looked too closely, because a part of me that responds to no reason still thinks that you are waiting in the burger line, and when you come out I can really examine the new condiments station, and you'd tell me which spices you like and we'd laugh about, I don't know, something about it that isn't inherently funny but it would be if you were there.

That's what I mean when I say I want you in person. How can you love me if you aren't sitting right across from me and I can reach my hand out to cover yours? How can you love me if we aren't the two of us walking side by side, fingers intertwined until my palm gets too hot, shoulders bumping into each other, maybe talking, maybe not, but it wouldn't matter because we'd just be on some journey together? It's stupid. I should be willing to go to the ends of the earth for you. I really do only want it because it's convenient. I just want it at super inconvenient times. Like, the feel of the back of your head on my face when I'm laying against you. But all I feel is my pillow. I swear I want you for more than your body. I don't know. Maybe I don't, and I'm horrible.

Uh, but the point of this letter is, is I want to be better by the time you see me again. I think what that looks like is, I can't date you until I learn how to stand up for myself. How to confidently exist in your presence. I feel like over the summer you never really knew me. And maybe that was because I was boring. I worked a stupid job and hated most of my coworkers, and I didn't really watch many shows or do anything outside of you. Work four days, see you one day, renovate the house two days. I was sad and pathetic and nothing like you. At the very least, I think I've got to stop believing that about myself before I can be with you. Because I don't think I could change, I don't think I can become someone who's worth your effort. I'm not good enough for you. I don't survive our battles because I don't think there's anything to me that's worth saving. You tell me to change and I change, you tell me to fold and I fold. You quietly imply that you wish I was different, and I read between the lines and do it. Did you know that I had a list of Evie Rules? 1. Ask Leading Questions. 2. You are dumb, she is smart. Those seemed to make you happier when I abided by them. But then I got the feeling that you weren't fond of who I actually am. So I've got to stand up for myself, so that if you tell me to change, I do it because I want to, not so that you aren't mad at me. Then, I can be a genuine good person, and I'll actually believe it when you say that I'm worth the effort.

But for now, there's nothing worth your time. I'm sorry. I wish I hadn't approached you that day, then I'd feel less hurt and you'd have one less person to hate.