Saturday, January 15, 2011

dear jon


Dear Jon,

You’re leaving today for Arizona and you’re probably never coming back. And I waited all day for a phone call, which obviously never came. And I thought to myself, if he did call, what would you say? Would I try to make a last stand to get you back or get you to stay? Would I calmly say goodbye and refuse to show emotion? Would I show concern? I think to find out the real truth I’d have to have actually received a phone call. So, I guess the world will never know.

But then I thought, well if you could say anything to him, without fear of repercussions, what would you say? So here goes.

I’ve never felt such a mix of strong and intense emotions about someone before in my life. It’s been 8 and a half months and I am still in love with you. I think about you every single day, with whatever it is that I’m doing. I love you. And I wish you knew what that even meant. Some days, I don’t even know what I mean. Most days I’m told to give up and move on, but I can’t. And I think a part of that stems from the fact that I promised myself and my heart to you for 8 months, and even though you took yours back, I’m still letting you have mine. Today, someone randomly told me that they thought you and I were going to be married. Others saw it too Jon, we are perfect for each other. And it’s not even about marriage for me, because honestly the idea of marriage scares me. It’s about the fact that I want to wake up every single morning and see your face or be in your arms. And I want that every day for the rest of my life, even though I know I’m not going to have it.

And I feel so pathetic for thinking this. I mean, it’s been so long, and clearly you have moved on to a new lifestyle entirely. The drugs and the drinking and the friends and Arizona in general. I don’t understand it. There is a part of me that feels that you’re retaliating against the life you had in Connecticut. Whether that’s your father or your mother, or something else entirely. And that’s fine if that is what you have to do. But its unnecessary and it’s scaring me. I fear for your life every day Jon, and I’m dreading the day when I get a phone call that tells me you’re gone. But the way you’re going, I think a part of me wouldn’t even be surprised.

You claim you don’t remember, but this summer we had a really intense conversation about a week before you left for school. And in it, you told me that cocaine replaced me in your life because it was the only thing that could make you as happy as I did. And that made me upset, because instead of letting me in and allowing our relationship to help you, you pushed me aside and replaced me with an illegal and synthetic powdery substance. And yet, here I am still in love with you.

It’s more than pathetic actually that I can’t get past this. All of the signs are there, we don’t talk, you do drugs, you’re failing out of school, and I’m getting my chance at a new beginning with college. But it’s like I’m refusing to acknowledge the signs. For some reason, I can’t say goodbye and I can’t let you go. The funny thing is, you’ve let me go and you don’t need me to let you go to move on.

I’m not the only one in your life who is concerned about you. Your friends like Isaac and Charliedan all worry about you. They think you’re taking it too far even Nick is scared. You’re going deeper and deeper and one day you realize it, but it’ll be too late to turn back. And who knows when that day will be. It could be in a few months, a year, or even a few years. Then what will happen to you? I know it sounds so conformist, but don’t you want to be able to set up a future for yourself in which you can be more successful than your childhood? And what if you find someone you want to spend your life with and have children with. Don’t you want to be able to give them a better life than you had growing up?

I think the main thing I would say to you, if I could say anything that would stick, would be to stay. I am begging you to stay in Connecticut. And it’s too late now, it’s 12:10 am on January 14, 2011, you’re boarding the plane. If this was an 80s chick flick, I’d be running through the terminal right now screaming your name, just to get you to stop and stay. I just think that Arizona is the wrong choice and will only prolong the drugs. I think you have a better chance here, even if you hate it.

In a perfect world, you’d read this and fall back in love with me. But if I have learned anything through this, it’s that the world is not perfect. If it were, I wouldn’t cry every time I hear “I’m Yours” and I would be able to sleep at night without dreaming of you coming back to me. In a perfect world, we’d still be together and perfect and happy. And that is what I need Jon, I need you. I need the guy who would sing to me and hold me and refuse to let me go. I need the guy who planned out our life together and looked at me as though I were the only person in the world. I need the person who was brilliant and could go so far. And I know he is still there, I see him come out some times. But he’s buried underneath this scared boy who thinks drugs are his only way out.

The most pathetic thing about this letter is that in my mind by writing this, you’ll one-day read it and we’ll one day be together again. But the cynical realist in me knows that that will never happen, and this will stay on my computer not to be opened again.

If I could say or do anything Jon, I’d tell you I love you and that you should say. And then I would wrap my arms around you and I would refuse to let go.

By now you’ve probably boarded, but I refuse to acknowledge this as a waste of time, because maybe one day you will read it. And when you do, I’ll be here waiting for your response.

I love you Jonathon. And I promise to never hurt you; I promise to love you forever. And if you’ll have me, I promise not to walk out.


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