Love, Yours

Dear Santiago,

Although my plan is for you to never read this, I’m writing it in print because I know you have trouble reading cursive. So maybe I do wish for you to read this. Maybe I want to put this letter in the wind and let the world carry it to you.

We aren’t speaking to each other, I know. But in my dreams I see you every night. I’m trying to be independent. I’m succeeding and during the day I feel accomplished sometimes but when the sun sets I’m reminded of a love so strong that my skin prickles and my morality leaves through the window.

I vividly imagine other worlds. Living in orchards, by train tracks, on farms or surrounded by skyscrapers. I can practically smell the flowers, the exhaust, the fields, the asphalt. My senses connect to lives that aren’t mine and each morning I wake with my head still far away.

I’ve barely come out of my depressive episode but it keeps dragging me back in, or at least trying to. It’s hard to force myself to wake up when my dreams are much sweeter. It’s hard to force myself to get out of bed when there’s nothing to get up for.

I still haven't found who I am but I remember who you are. Do you remember? I worry sometimes that you will slip from yourself and fall somewhere much darker. I know that's not who you are. Even when I hate you, I still know the person that you are. There are not words for the way you made me feel, but there are memories. You ate a strawberry off of the ground for me. You kissed my feet. You held me.

I once told you that nothing you could say would make me see you differently. That was last summer, and technically I didn’t say it, I wrote it down. I don’t know if that’s still true. I don’t love you less now, but your lies make me feel…well…I’m not sure. You once told me you don’t think I love you the same as you love me. You were right, because my love is honest. The love I have for you would never let me selfishly lie to you. Because Santiago, that was selfish. You lied and then you told me the truth in a moment when you wouldn’t need to deal with the consequences. Would you have told me if I hadn’t ended it?

Before we broke up, there was something I wanted to bring up to you, but I didn’t because we were about to break up anyways. Remember when I got pissed at you because you would say your family doesn't approve of mine because of status, of professions, of money. I wasn't mad because you said that; I'm sure it was true. I was mad because you didn't defend me. You said it like it was true, like it was something you were proud of, at least a little bit.

It hurts me how selfish your love is. It’s new to me how much I’ve come to value humility. Do you think you’re better than me, Santiago? How can you claim to love someone you look down upon?

I sometimes feel like I have a hard time finding someone who sees me as an equal. They often put me at ‘better’ or ‘worse’. I had hoped to find that in you. I’m not sure if I did.

I understand that your pride is something very important to you. I just didn’t realize that it might be more important than me.

I hope I’m wrong about you. I hope that you see me as your equal and love me selflessly (although of course, there will always be some selfishness in love). I’m not sure how you could love me and lie. How you could love me and put me through simulated suffering. I understand you were scared. You’re not heartless, you are just selfish. I love you anyway.

I don’t think I’ve ever been this lost before. I’m unsure what part of it is my life going in the wrong direction and what part of it is some kind of chemical imbalance. I’m scared to go on antidepressants. I’m scared to go home. I’m scared my mother is going to die before her time. I’m scared my brother and I will never speak again, never recover from the rift in our relationship. I want to call you and tell you about it. I want your advice all the time.

I sort of thought I wanted to try to see what love is like with other people. You were my first and only love. It hurt so much sometimes. I thought I might want to see something different. I was wrong. All I want is you. I want us to go to Mexico together for a while, just us. I would like a bubble for us where nothing can hurt us or tear us apart.

I still keep track of you, although I’m ashamed to admit it. I find out what you’re up to and where you’ve been. I picture you walking through empty roads. I wonder if you’re making friends. I think about how you’re handling all this. Do you miss me too? Have you found someone else?

Do you think this is the end? Is it ever?

I wrote some stuff earlier that makes me feel guilty. I don’t know if your love is dishonest or not. I know there has been much truth in it, in us. I was taught that you don’t lie to people you love, but maybe you can. I’ve lied to my parents, but never would I consider telling a lie that hurt more than the truth. Did you think you were protecting me?

I can’t help but know that your pride was involved in this lie. I mean, you told me it was, but I think you underplayed it. I know you struggle. I know there are times you want to be like them, and times you are afraid of being like them. I never thought you wanted to be like them with me, though. I never thought you would want to become the people who made you feel small, who made you feel like you were going down a path you couldn’t return from. No matter what you told me, I never saw you like that. I still don’t.

I hope to see you in my dreams tonight again. This time, I hope that you’re sound asleep in the mountains across the world, looking back at me.

Love,

Yours