Requiem for the Fallen
Page 15
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“Dear…” No, “Dear” sounds too contrite. How to start this?
“Hey, it’s me.
Thank you for sending the boxes. I’m staying with Mona right now, so, she gave them to me. I’m sorry. I really don’t know what to say. I just wanted you to know that I’m alright, and that, regardless of how things ended between us, I’ll always think fondly on the time we spent together…”
Ah. That’s such shit…
“Hey, it’s me.
So I finally made it back to Mona’s. She’s given me the boxes you sent. Thank you, especially for the one. It means a lot; I wanted you to know that. I want you to know a lot of things that I never told you. I want you to know that I didn’t mean any of the things I said that day. Okay, that’s a lie. I did mean them. Every word. I was so overwhelmed with hurt, and furious with you, and with myself for letting you hurt me. And you did hurt me; you hurt me over and over and over again until I felt like there would be nothing left of me to break. Why did you mess with my mind so? (What I was trying to tell you that day, what I’d been trying to tell you all that time, was that I was already yours, in mind and soul if not in body. And for that, I was only waiting for you.)
But I need you to know that, no matter how many times you made me feel worthless, there were just as many where you’d make me feel like we were the only two people in the world; you were my twin light.
How can I sum up a whole year’s worth of what I want to say to you?
Should I tell you that I’m resigned to the fact that it’s over and done with because I know it has to be and I know that you can’t give me what I want and it was naïve and arrogant of me to ever expect you would? Should I tell you that I spent this past year in a quest to reclaim a lost self? I could tell you that I’ve found her, but what I’ve discovered is that she was never really lost, just changed. I lost faith in myself, in my ability to preserve my spiritual integrity and be with you, because being with you and not being with you was torture, and you called out the animal in me like no one else has ever done.
So I left. I spent thirteen months in solitude, thinking I would relinquish you. Isn’t it funny that all it took was an old sweatshirt and some silver chains to make me realize what a colossal liar I am. I’m no different. I’m still sitting on a battered leather couch, smelling incense and pine and locked in your arms, hanging onto your every word.
But I’m done judging you, and I’m done trying to save you. It’s not in my power; it never was. Why do so many of us get lost in the funny notion that we can reinvent people?
Anyway, you’ve always known what I think. You know the truth, deep down. I only want you to know that I see something beautiful in you and that gives me hope. You’re not as fallen as you think, remember? I hope that if you ever want to feel that light, you’ll know what to do. I hope I’ve at least given you that. The rest is up to you.
I guess I’m telling you all of this to say-I don’t regret leaving. It was what we needed, because neither of us could give the other what was necessary, to live, you know? But I don’t regret knowing you either. I don’t regret loving you. I know you loved me in your way, and don’t think I didn’t notice, even if you didn’t say it. I felt it .And I want to thank you. You were my awakening; I never knew that I could hold someone as precious in my soul as I hold you. Know that-wherever your path takes you, no matter how many arms and eyes and hearts you need, you are always my second self. I love you. Know that.
Tabitha sent both letters, tied together with a shorter note attached on top that read, “Letter 1: The Polite, Bullshit Goodbye”, “Letter 2: Our Requiem: Your Choice.”