I lied.
When you asked me what I thought, I told you that it was okay. I said I didn't expect anything from you because you couldn't expect anything from me. I told you that I completely understood that you were in a different
place in your life and so was I. I pretended I was fine going our separate ways.
I guess I didn't realize we would be going so far away so soon.
I change my mind. It's not okay. I go through each day of my dreary existence alone, meeting hardly a soul who is remotely interesting, much less as fascinating intelligent and sweet as you. And now, because you've moved a measly 100 miles away, I'm supposed to just let you go? I don't want to.
I knew a boy who would walk a few miles down the street from his house on a night in december, just to sit shivering on the cold pavement and -- with the cord stretched as far is it could go -- talk to me from a payphone. He would do that because he didn't have a phone in his apartment. He would do it because he liked me. I was worth it, he said. The night you and I first went out, I sat through 2 hours of hell called traffic, after an emotionally taxing fight with one of my best friends and wanting only to slide under the covers and never come out. You wanted to meet for a cup of coffee in Hollywood. So I sat with you, in Hollywood, cradling my cup of tea till 2 am. Of course I knew that I would have about 3 hours of sleep before my big interview for my cover story. I did it because you made me beam. I did it because I liked you. you were worth it.
You make sacrifices, Jacob. That is what relationships are about.
You told me the next night that you were so intrigued to see where this would lead. I was. After that, we talked every night for hours at a time, once til 7 in the morning. We went out two more times, each more amazing than the night before. It seemed pretty clear to me that this could only lead one place. To something more. Is something more too much?
So you live 100 miles away. So you're only 21. So you don't know if this will work. You just don't want to try.
Perhaps I'm melodramatic. Yeah, I'm a bit impetuous.
But I have no other choice. I don't just meet boys who want to watch Breakfast at Tiffany's and Mulan with me. Other people think I'm crazy because I am equally obsessed with
candy and shoes. no one else has been able to listen to my endless babbling, much less understand it. I don't know anyone else who knows what raygun or tagalog is. You do.
Just like you were checking marks when we found yet another thing in common, I was doing the same. You have to admit our compatibility is astounding. Plus, you're not some annoying tortured artist or an intellectual snob. You're not a big dork but you're just geeky enough. You're cool without acting cool. And god, I just really dig you. I thought you digged me too. and call me crazy, but when I find something special, I don't just let it slip through my fingers. I hold on to it dearly and never let go, because I
don't know when next I'll come across something like it again. I don't want to let you go.
But then you wrote me today, all of three lines, one of them being: "I'll give ya a ring maybe."
That's one of those letting-her-down-easy lines. or something you write when you don't want the other person to know how you really feel.
So, which one is it?
If it's the first, just tell me now. I'm tired.
But if it's the latter, tell me that too. because I am sitting here, wondering what hit me. I am fighting tears,
wondering what on earth I have to cry for. I am sitting here scared and lonely and sad and missing you.
And you know how i hate to cry.
-C
