Dear Jake

Dear Jacob,

I can see you, me, us, a lot more clearly. We were a pair of young lovers so desperate for love and to love that couldn’t pull it off.

How I see myself more clearly. I stopped taking care of myself. I depended on you so much that I hurt my well-being. I needed to go and do things, independence. I wanted a degree that really meant something to me, to skate and run, to do martial arts, to go to sleep at 9, never really party, read and write poetry all the time, volunteer at the gardens, eat so much less, dance, absolutely glow with a lust for life. I’m trying not to hate myself for the shell I became, but it’s hard, I just died a little in that apartment. I’m back to the girl I was two years ago, i fast and read my theology, look for god in my way.

How I see you more clearly. You’re a yearner. The music and the fantasies, the dreams and promises, you love love. “Even in Kyoto / hearing the cuckoo’s cry / I long for Kyoto.” You’re a good yearner, I hope you make art about it. For all your yearning, you keep yourself hidden. “You’re being distant” hides yourself. “I’m scared. Come back to me” shows your heart. Did I ever say no when you asked? I should be shot if I had. You must have spent a lot of time scared and then a lot of time just tired. You were right about a lot of things. I was too. What a mess.

How I see us. You liked my emotional unavailability. I liked your nurturing. I met you the month I’d been assaulted, left my family, and moved twice. I didn’t see you and you didn’t see me. We just slept so well together. That feeling of perfect belonging when we were in each others’ arms for the first time. Homer, Louisiana. Homer home.

I keep wondering, was your self esteem so low that you believed I didn’t adore you? I picked you blackberries and embroidered you a headband and couldn’t fall asleep without holding your thumb. Were all those times you questioned my devotion a projection? Are you self-aware or brave enough to consider this honestly?

I stopped being friends with that group. I overheard them talking so much shit about us that I wanted to scream. Especially that day. I wanted to defend you but you’re not my business anymore. It hurts to see them, but I’ve made new friends who are astonishingly secure. I hope it’s rubbing off on me.

I do my push ups every morning and run my runs and volunteer to pull invasive species every couple weekends, and I write and read all the time. I’ve given up internet, liquor, smoking, social media, and sugar. And to my surprise, this winter has been lovely. I sit outside to acclimatize and sometimes when the sun comes down on me I just can’t believe how much I belong here in this world. I was made to be here and to talk about it.

Final confession: I wanted to have your kids. It hit me like a ton of bricks one day. I had too much pride to say it, redact something I’d yammered so long about. Would you have judged me for the change of opinion? I think they would have been beautiful, your curls, my highlights, our brown eyes.

Love,

Gabby

Olichney boy makes

the woods home, softly sings the

creatures to sleep