Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Letter # 23
ive realized that no matter how many girls i try and flirt with, no matter how many im with, my feelings never come close to the ones i had for you. In some strange way they all seem like fake you's, trying to be funny or sexy, but they try too hard. I really want to thank you for giving me a 10 to compare to, a goal to shoot for. you still really mean a lot to me. But above all else, I want to tell you how proud i am of you, i simply dont talk to you enough to convey how important you still are in the way i live my life. It's too bad that it has to be almost 4 am for me to tell you this when my inhibitions are down.
Letter # 23
more of a poem this one seems... but it is nice to change things up! -Amber
Early in the Season
From the edge,
you are a dark pool -
cold and unknown -
somehow, though,
in the wavering fragments
of that golden-framed face
peering down into your depths - -
- -familiar.
In the periphery,
an illusion of first-morning heat,
a blaze of yellow-orange ripples
that radiate from toes
dabbling - -
- -uncertain.
Tangled along the liquid floor lurk
decomposing
but recognizable
dangers:
sharp-edged broken hearts,
timepieces stopped too soon,
a rusted iron bar,
tear-filled packets of warm-water disappointment,
faded, yellowed health records,
that charred silver spoon.
And yet, softly illuminated
through silky channels
meanders a bottom-ribbon of sandy light
just wide enough for fearless wading.
Slow
tentative steps slip
into deeper darkness- -
- - the pauses
pulsing with possibility.
I’m only in knee-deep,
just warming.
Early in the Season
From the edge,
you are a dark pool -
cold and unknown -
somehow, though,
in the wavering fragments
of that golden-framed face
peering down into your depths - -
- -familiar.
In the periphery,
an illusion of first-morning heat,
a blaze of yellow-orange ripples
that radiate from toes
dabbling - -
- -uncertain.
Tangled along the liquid floor lurk
decomposing
but recognizable
dangers:
sharp-edged broken hearts,
timepieces stopped too soon,
a rusted iron bar,
tear-filled packets of warm-water disappointment,
faded, yellowed health records,
that charred silver spoon.
And yet, softly illuminated
through silky channels
meanders a bottom-ribbon of sandy light
just wide enough for fearless wading.
Slow
tentative steps slip
into deeper darkness- -
- - the pauses
pulsing with possibility.
I’m only in knee-deep,
just warming.
Friday, May 15, 2009
Letter # 22
My favorite poems were the Petrarchan sonnets about unrequited love. I thought they were filled with beauty and passion that I could relate to. I would fall in love with Thomas Wyatt after reading any of his poems. Then I sit and wonder how any woman could deny his kind words. I wished he had written to me. I would understand, I would care and I would love him back. I met my Thomas at the Lincoln center library one rainy day. I walked around in circles, because I couldn’t find the entrance. Finally I reached the door. I stumbled in dripping wet fumbling with my bags and umbrella. Unaware of anyone else I walked around the library flipping through plays dreading going back out in the rain. By the time I left the rain had stopped. I walked quickly to the street and then I heard your voice behind me. Thinking you were the ordinary catcaller I sped up to get away from you, but your kind words slowed me down. You walked with me to the street and told me how you saw me come in, but couldn’t speak to me because it was against library policy for the employees to speak to the visitors. You called me beautiful and said I stopped you in your tracks and the whole time I thought I looked a mess. I waited for you to say something stupid that would make me want to leave, but you said all the things that made me stay. I considered going with my usual route and telling you about my made-up boyfriend, but since you were honest with me I couldn’t lie to you. I took your number and stored it in my phone. The truth is the whole time that I spent talking to you I wished you were someone else. I know its horrible to say, but I wished you were someone else but I still took your number to be nice or to show you that I appreciate all the things you said. I realize that there is nothing beautiful about denying someone’s proposal of love. You made my whole day better, but I still wish you were someone else. Someone that I have feelings for, someone that I’m not even sure has feelings for me, but I wished you were him. I wonder if the women Thomas Wyatt wrote to had already given their hearts to someone that didn’t deserve them or maybe they just weren’t deserving of his heart as I am not deserving of yours. I don’t know if you will ever read this, I don’t know if I will ever see you again. But I wanted to write this letter as an apology. I’m sorry Thomas.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Letter # 21
I spent my life too scared to stand still, to stay in once place. I felt the need to keep moving and running, changing my location, my job, my life. Each new place was chance to meet someone different, but each new person passed by quickly, making only the lightest imprint on my life. It’s hard to make connections when you know you’ll be gone before the relationship can grow.
Some people tried to grab and hold onto me, to encourage me to stop and hold my ground. But after a little while every situation ended the same: bitter words being exchanged, me packing my bags, erasing a number from my phone and a face from my mind.
Then came you. Instead of holding me in place, keeping me from my dreams and love of change, you decided to move with me. You showed me love doesn’t need to stay in one place, one home. Love can run and change and become something different everyday. You challenged me by agreeing with my lifestyle, instead of questioning it.
And in letting me move, you eventually encouraged me to stay. Not with words, but with your love. It became apparent to me that I wanted you more than I wanted a new city, a new job, a new life. At first I was scared, and that made me want to run faster and harder than ever before. But you stayed solid, never wavering, never changing. And eventually I slowed, and decided to stand still for a little while-because your love was worth it.
You’ve never asked me to change who I am, but I did. It was hard, but it was worth it. Standing still isn’t so hard when you have someone next to you, holding your hand.
-23, Baltimore, MD
Some people tried to grab and hold onto me, to encourage me to stop and hold my ground. But after a little while every situation ended the same: bitter words being exchanged, me packing my bags, erasing a number from my phone and a face from my mind.
Then came you. Instead of holding me in place, keeping me from my dreams and love of change, you decided to move with me. You showed me love doesn’t need to stay in one place, one home. Love can run and change and become something different everyday. You challenged me by agreeing with my lifestyle, instead of questioning it.
And in letting me move, you eventually encouraged me to stay. Not with words, but with your love. It became apparent to me that I wanted you more than I wanted a new city, a new job, a new life. At first I was scared, and that made me want to run faster and harder than ever before. But you stayed solid, never wavering, never changing. And eventually I slowed, and decided to stand still for a little while-because your love was worth it.
You’ve never asked me to change who I am, but I did. It was hard, but it was worth it. Standing still isn’t so hard when you have someone next to you, holding your hand.
-23, Baltimore, MD
Letter # 20
E-
I may know a lot of things in life, but I don't suppose I know what the purpose of this letter is. Most certainly, it isn't to announce some profound and deep longing for you, as I am sure throughout the years we've known each other, I've made it a known fact not only to you, but all our friends.
It most certainly isn't to tell you that I couldn't get out of bed this morning (well, actually I couldn't, but it had nothing to do with you, but rather, because the air-conditioning was on too high and I was too lazy) because just the thought of taking on the world without you around sickened me enough to put me back to bed - we already visited that stuff last winter.
As well, it isn't to go over the story of the first time I knew I wanted to spend a good portion of my life with you - or, at the very least, "get a shot" with you; by now, we should all know that story by heart.
It isn't to ask for a shot or a chance either, because as I've learned, the more one pushes, the more likely the other is to back off. Although I want you to know I've stopped asking for a chance not because the feelings I've got for you are any less intense, but because I realized that so long as you are in my life, no matter in which capacity, I am satisfied.
One of my favorite poems from the book I'd given you the first few times we met is one about longing. In it, Peter McWilliams writes, "All I Want Is Someone To Talk To About You, But You're The Only One I Can Talk You. Trapped."
I suppose that sums up the purpose of this letter. I write because I want to talk about you, and perhaps address "us" for just one more time, before leaving it all behind and looking ahead to the bright futures we each have.
Do you ever remember reading the book "Little Women?" I recently finished reading it (with great shame as most people finished it in junior high) this winter, and I must say, it's the first book of fiction that I could wholeheartedly relate to - perhaps because it models so well after you and I.
You're very much like Jo. Your intelligence, independence, creativity, feminism, altruism and compassion are all the reasons that upon our first few meetings, I fell "quicker than I thought I could or said I would."
Much like Laurie, the adoration and fondness I have for you is real. From the very beginning, I've looked up to you, and strived to be a better person for you. And, much like Laurie, I've had my options, but the daunting tasks of forgetting I ever loved you is a hard one. After all, it's easy to deal with a rejection when it's about one's ego, but much harder when it's one's heart. But much like Laurie, I've learned to transfer those feelings, changing them from those of romanticism to something more of a friendship - almost the kind of love siblings have for another, and yes, this is real, too.
I don't suppose it's wrong to tell you that now and then, my heart forgets, but my mind is there to remind me - out of the blue, here in Iraq as I am walking down the streets, I'd blurt out, "God, I miss her," only to realize that while I do miss you, the longing and love I feel for you is different now. In short, I want you to know that no matter how much the love I have for you evolves, that you'll always be an important part of my life.
I don't believe in true love. I don't believe in soulmates, and I most certainly do not believe in the myth that we can only love one person in life. Too often, Hollywood has made a living out of painting the picture of the lover in agony - one still suffering from yesterday's rejection and unable to move on, until he gets the woman he loves. That's not true with me. Yet, it is still fair to ask the question: will I ever love someone as much as I loved you?
To that, I want to tell you the story of Vice President Joe Biden. After the "accident" - the death of his first wife and young daughter, the young senator met his current wife - and after a few dates, he asked her if she minded that he was still in love with his first wife, and that still had her pictures and cherished her memories. She responded, "Not at all - because I know that anyone who can love that deeply has the ability to love again."
That's what I believe; I believe I have the ability to love again - and that one day, just as I'd loved you, I will meet an amazing feminist and will love her just as much. And thankfully, you're still alive and here fighting a good fight for social justice with me. What more could a guy ask for?
This, then, the end of my romantic love for you, really isn't an end at all - but the beginning of something profound, something special - the human-to-human connection that only takes place a handful of times in one's life.
I am thankful for this new beginning and I am thankful for you; no matter where we end up in life, I want you to know that you'll always be one to whom I owe, and for whom I feel, the world.
M-
I may know a lot of things in life, but I don't suppose I know what the purpose of this letter is. Most certainly, it isn't to announce some profound and deep longing for you, as I am sure throughout the years we've known each other, I've made it a known fact not only to you, but all our friends.
It most certainly isn't to tell you that I couldn't get out of bed this morning (well, actually I couldn't, but it had nothing to do with you, but rather, because the air-conditioning was on too high and I was too lazy) because just the thought of taking on the world without you around sickened me enough to put me back to bed - we already visited that stuff last winter.
As well, it isn't to go over the story of the first time I knew I wanted to spend a good portion of my life with you - or, at the very least, "get a shot" with you; by now, we should all know that story by heart.
It isn't to ask for a shot or a chance either, because as I've learned, the more one pushes, the more likely the other is to back off. Although I want you to know I've stopped asking for a chance not because the feelings I've got for you are any less intense, but because I realized that so long as you are in my life, no matter in which capacity, I am satisfied.
One of my favorite poems from the book I'd given you the first few times we met is one about longing. In it, Peter McWilliams writes, "All I Want Is Someone To Talk To About You, But You're The Only One I Can Talk You. Trapped."
I suppose that sums up the purpose of this letter. I write because I want to talk about you, and perhaps address "us" for just one more time, before leaving it all behind and looking ahead to the bright futures we each have.
Do you ever remember reading the book "Little Women?" I recently finished reading it (with great shame as most people finished it in junior high) this winter, and I must say, it's the first book of fiction that I could wholeheartedly relate to - perhaps because it models so well after you and I.
You're very much like Jo. Your intelligence, independence, creativity, feminism, altruism and compassion are all the reasons that upon our first few meetings, I fell "quicker than I thought I could or said I would."
Much like Laurie, the adoration and fondness I have for you is real. From the very beginning, I've looked up to you, and strived to be a better person for you. And, much like Laurie, I've had my options, but the daunting tasks of forgetting I ever loved you is a hard one. After all, it's easy to deal with a rejection when it's about one's ego, but much harder when it's one's heart. But much like Laurie, I've learned to transfer those feelings, changing them from those of romanticism to something more of a friendship - almost the kind of love siblings have for another, and yes, this is real, too.
I don't suppose it's wrong to tell you that now and then, my heart forgets, but my mind is there to remind me - out of the blue, here in Iraq as I am walking down the streets, I'd blurt out, "God, I miss her," only to realize that while I do miss you, the longing and love I feel for you is different now. In short, I want you to know that no matter how much the love I have for you evolves, that you'll always be an important part of my life.
I don't believe in true love. I don't believe in soulmates, and I most certainly do not believe in the myth that we can only love one person in life. Too often, Hollywood has made a living out of painting the picture of the lover in agony - one still suffering from yesterday's rejection and unable to move on, until he gets the woman he loves. That's not true with me. Yet, it is still fair to ask the question: will I ever love someone as much as I loved you?
To that, I want to tell you the story of Vice President Joe Biden. After the "accident" - the death of his first wife and young daughter, the young senator met his current wife - and after a few dates, he asked her if she minded that he was still in love with his first wife, and that still had her pictures and cherished her memories. She responded, "Not at all - because I know that anyone who can love that deeply has the ability to love again."
That's what I believe; I believe I have the ability to love again - and that one day, just as I'd loved you, I will meet an amazing feminist and will love her just as much. And thankfully, you're still alive and here fighting a good fight for social justice with me. What more could a guy ask for?
This, then, the end of my romantic love for you, really isn't an end at all - but the beginning of something profound, something special - the human-to-human connection that only takes place a handful of times in one's life.
I am thankful for this new beginning and I am thankful for you; no matter where we end up in life, I want you to know that you'll always be one to whom I owe, and for whom I feel, the world.
M-
Friday, April 17, 2009
Letter #19
The Way We Were
I look back to the way we were,
How we would walk endlessly together.
I look back to the way we were,
How we wondered how far we could go
I look back to the way we were,
How happy you had made me.
Now I look to the way we are,
And I find I am with another.
These feelings are new,
But they’re not felt for you.
I never thought the day would come,
When I could stare into different eyes,
And realize the way we used to be,
Will only remain as a memory.
For I stand looking at the way we were,
And now I know its over.
I look back to the way we were,
How we would walk endlessly together.
I look back to the way we were,
How we wondered how far we could go
I look back to the way we were,
How happy you had made me.
Now I look to the way we are,
And I find I am with another.
These feelings are new,
But they’re not felt for you.
I never thought the day would come,
When I could stare into different eyes,
And realize the way we used to be,
Will only remain as a memory.
For I stand looking at the way we were,
And now I know its over.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Letter #18
I met you at a time in my life when I had no idea who I was and what I was doing. You were patient with me, you were warm, and understanding. You asked me questions and gave me plenty of time to answer them. I tend to ramble on if given the chance, but you didn't mind, you actually liked it. Did you know what you were doing? Did you know that you were making me feel so comfortable with you and giving me a chance to learn about myself? You brought me back from a dark place and I think you are completely unaware. This is just one of the things that I love so much about you. You are honest, and kind, and loving. That is why it took my breath away to hear you say that you couldn't love me back. You said you didn't expect to meet a woman like me, you didn't expect to me to be so wonderful. But the timing is not right for you. There is still a piece of you that holds back. I understand this, I really do. But it breaks my heart to think that I didn't do what you did for me. I didn't bring you back from that place. And for that I am sorry. It kills me to think that other woman let you go. And it kills me to think you were once in love with her, or still may be. I hope one day you wake up with me on your mind and a smile on your face. And I hope one day I wake up and see you there, over and over again.
Charlie Brown once said, "nothing takes the taste out of peanut butter like unrequited love," and here is a perfect example. This is why I think falling in love is terrifying. For a while you think you're both on the same page and then WHAM! You find out that you're wrong. I think that this is probably the most painful sort of love. Where it seems like you've almost got their heart in your hand, but those last couple of inches stretch for miles. I wonder if this sort of situation ever results in a relationship. It's a terrible thing when someone wont let themselves love another. Especially when two people seem perfect for one another.
-Lauren
Charlie Brown once said, "nothing takes the taste out of peanut butter like unrequited love," and here is a perfect example. This is why I think falling in love is terrifying. For a while you think you're both on the same page and then WHAM! You find out that you're wrong. I think that this is probably the most painful sort of love. Where it seems like you've almost got their heart in your hand, but those last couple of inches stretch for miles. I wonder if this sort of situation ever results in a relationship. It's a terrible thing when someone wont let themselves love another. Especially when two people seem perfect for one another.
-Lauren
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