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The topic of "you" was brought up over a game of pool with an old friend. And although I haven't been writing much about you lately, you haven't been far from my thoughts.

Sometimes, as I observe the behaviors of young couples thoroughly soaked in an atmosphere of love, I think about the two of us and how I once used to be able to love so deeply in that manner. It goes without saying that I also haven't been loved in that manner for so long I've forgotten what the feeling is like to be loved so deeply by another, with a passion to possess wholly, shutting out the rest of the world despite their screams to be heard.

Over the last two weeks or so, a strange fear has gripped me in its occasional but nagging grasp. It's the fear that I will never be able to love so deeply again, or translated in a slightly different manner, the fear that I have lost the ability to love another with all my heart.

So many things have changed since the day you left those years ago. No longer am I worried of being double-faced, now I'm totally transparent. My colleagues can feel my angry or stressed-up vibes from afar, and when I'm not myself, the whole office realizes it before I even know it myself. I also find that when I'm trying to pursue the love of another, I begin to do silly things that reflect nothing of my character, only to be (understandably) shunned and blamed for stupid mistakes that occur along the way. No longer do I find a thrill in fooling with the feelings of ladies I have no interest in, I just turn them down before anything grows.

But when I'm not in love, when I have no one to impress, in the midst of my family members and close friends, I'm happy to be eccentric. I'm myself when I laugh very loudly, dance instead of walking, dish out good advice that no one really wants to hear, and grin from ear to ear. I'm myself when I dress unconventionally, make funny remarks out of nowhere, provide alternate perspectives few have ever considered and talk about sociology and God for a good half an hour straight without an indication of stopping anytime soon.

It's strange how I know I'm eccentric, because the general view is that you can't be eccentric if you know you're eccentric. Even writing that last line was a terrible tongue-twister that I won't bother explaining. But I'm happy to be alone, and I don't want to fall in love because honestly, I'm not myself when I'm in love, and secondly, I don't actually think anyone will fancy me when I'm myself. I think I'll make a fake boyfriend if I were seriously in love, and will make pretty uncaring boyfriend if I'm being my authentic self.

I've kinda lost my train of thought halfway writing this, but I think I'll leave it there because I know she's probably going to find this post somewhere down the road. As for you, I hope you're happy, and I want you to know that you're still in my prayers every night.

Write me a letter if you have the time. I love letters, and I believe that your free-spirited nature will produce some of the most extraordinary literature to me, even if they probably make no logical sense in every nature of the word.



Write to me.



What a lot we lost when we stopped writing letters.  You can't reread a phone call.  -Liz Carpenter