My Dear, my sweet love of many summers ago, I always think of your sunshine when I step out my door into the heat. You showed me unconditional compassion, understanding, and devotion. You taught me sensibility and logic. We made promises, we made plans, we made love insatiably in our small apartments- just never-mind the house-mates.
I broke the promises. I broke so many plans. I hope you don’t remember our last times together…how I started dismantling the pieces of Us to build myself a much needed New Self. I could feel the tears burn your eyes like my eyes. I felt the writhe in your stomach in my own. Your pain wasn’t my pain, but I gave it to you. I had to give it to you, as the more We grew, the more I shrank. I love you still, and I am so happy to see you happy. With her. Your joy became my joy.
My best friend, the bliss and bane of my college years, our passion was incendiary. Our appetites for each other voracious and destructive in the most dangerous manner. The Artist’s Spark burned us up, and my ability to act the part of your lover left me only with a character of my creation.
Your craze to make me Feel is futile. I’ve taken off the costume and I’m afraid your perfect lover was a coincidental monster, a facade, and a mirage. She is not me, and she has stopped returning both of our calls. I miss the home we made, the good times, the cozy bar on Sunday nights. I’ll carry these with me and carry on, trinkets of adventures past, and wish you well on your journey. Don’t spend another tear on me.
To the “drinking mates,” whom I will never call flings, the few that shared in my heartbreaks that I always took like a man, I keep a bar-stool open for you always. Thank you for an open ear and mind. Thank you for the beer soaked, sweaty, dimly “at-sea” nights. Oh, the diversions we made for ourselves! Alas, we can still clink our mugs and act like it was all a strange dream.
To my housemate, whom I cherish like family, we had our flame. We loved and learned, and now we share a home. But the flame is out, replaced by the most altruistic, closest friendship. A chapter is closed. So please just do the dishes.
To my sweetheart, too kind and sensitive for my rough handling, I hope I never hurt you. The sweet kisses, the gentle mornings, the expeditions about the city are quickly becoming the soundtrack to my summer. As the leaves golden and fall, I won’t promise my bags won’t be packed, ready to cut our losses and run away. But I love you.
And like all the rest, I always will.