Feeling Out, Thinking Wide, Reaching Out

Did you know I could reach out and capture feeling? I can feel what you feel towards me. The good, the bad, and the ugly.

For example, I know for instance you were jealous of the man who was at the front help desk with a girl, standing next to him, whom he flirted with. A beautiful African accent came like honey from his tongue. Though he did not look at me, and he wasn't interested, I could feel your rage and jealously. I could feel the word's 'SHE'S MINE' echoed across the room out the glass doors and across Euclid. 

That wasn't a fun day.

I knew that you would go home and not speak to me, or look at me. There would be no kind words or hugs. Nothing to suggest romance. You would turn your head away and I'd be alone again. Drifting. Like the sea. 

What a terribly cruel thing to do to somebody who would've followed you anywhere and done anything just to see you smile.

Did you ever get my letter I sent you all those years ago? I know you did because your aura of love was so strong after, it felt like you were in my room though you were three houses away.

What kind of f*cked up game are you playing Mike? I don't like it.

Let me tell you about the worst night of my life. My friend Elley and her partner Skye had free hockey tickets and I tagged along. My dad and my sister had been to Monster's game, so I don't know if you ever noticed them. You're a bit callous so probably not. My guess is that they wouldn't recognize you either. 

My dad plays hockey, so I wanted to go. Be interested in something that's a family heritage, and I also like to watch sports live, except football with is too slow, and basketball because I'd always wanted to play and I'm jealous I never got the chance.

Well that and the crowds.

You were there. I noticed you right away and tried to hide. I was sick. Or getting sick, I got a terrible cough after and It was brewing so I'm not surprised that I was pale and blotchy at the event. So I tried to meld and blend in. Become a wall. I knew you wouldn't notice me or talk to me. So when you did, notice me, and your throat dropped about three octaves I felt miserable.

Because you'd never actually fucking love me. You'd just sit there, ego inflated, as if you'd won some fucking contest. And I'd have to go home alone and cry my eyes out. There would be no love, peace, or respite. It was horrible. You'd never actually love me. I might as well have been dead because I think that's the only reason you'd ever care. You're so selfish.

I think you don't want me to succeed for some reason. It feels like you put out this energy to hinder my success (although logically that is crazy talk) as if somehow-I dreamed once you kept me locked asleep in an attic until I woke up and walked out barefoot- you wanted me to stay in some suspended state of animation. 

That kind of behavior kills people.

And I'm sorry I got angry at your upbringing, family, and your religion and school especially, but I do think and sincerely believe you learned toxic behaviors and are repeating those because you don't know any other way and you don't know how to cope. 

I see a therapist every month, if you're not doing so already, maybe you should too for your own health and positive well being.

I want you to be okay. I'm sorry I got mad about the suicide because that's on me not on you.

I wanted to go to new york with you. At a different school. I looked at NYU and Sarah Lawrence, I would've only gone if you'd talked to me or spoken or said something. I didn't want to interfere with your dreams. I knew how you hated that so I gave you that space.

It was devastating to know that the moments I'd always wanted with you will never happen or come to pass. Getting drunk with you on my our 21st birthdays, or watching you graduate early (yay! you're smarter than me!) walk the stage and feel proud. I'll never go to a dance with you. Or get high (your marijuana phase was hilarious, Shaggy) and yes I messaged your brother while depressed and thinking about suicide while at Hiram, but he looked at me like he wanted to kill me so I didn't talk to him I just ran away.

Is it any wonder then that I want to date someone else. I need someobdy to care, to make me laugh and smile. I'm tired and exhausted of being scared and depressed. I need some happiness in my life and you've given me none.

When you stopped talking to me I thought, "wait-what if he's doing this because he wants to wait until he want's to have kids?" and then I was like "Oh come on Kelly he isn't THAT stupid"

Well. Apparently. You are.

If you ever talk to me again, I'd need to be friends first. I still love you, but I'm so afraid to trust you. What do you really want from me? Do you really love me, or do you just want to inflate your own ego? Would you support me or bring me down? What is your favorite color? What's your middle name? Is it safe to be around you? What if you manipulate me into having kids I'm not ready for, and I just go along to make you happy while being chronically depressed inside? Do you care about the emotional damage you've done? Do you realize I may be not able to have kids, warned against having them by doctors, or-If I did have them-a high risk pregnancy with serious risk of preclampsia because of my POTS?  Would you forgive me or yourself if I had a miscarriage?

I don't want to think about these things. They're too heavy. They weigh me down.

I got some books on travel writing. I want to see the world. Help people. Laugh and enjoy life.

I wish that man had been you.

You only make me cry.

I wish it could've been different.

I don't know what you want, and I"m not sure I want the same thing. I just want to be me, Kelly, without fear or anger or judgement.

Maybe I was wrong for getting mad at you, but you also have isolated me for the past ten years so I was bound to burst one day.Its' hard to cry to therapists each month and try to maintain control when you're internally going insane.

I don't know but I think I have MS. I think that's what the chronic pain and fatigue is. I have been having problems moving and holding things and motor skills and muscles holding me up are now failing me, and I'm leaking like a fourty year old woman, and you don't want that.

You dont want somebody disabled Mike. You made that clear years ago. I was your friend but even that had it's limits in social and public spaces. I don't think you could ever genuinely love me for who I am unless I was dead and something you could mourn, or a normal human being who can put on eye liner everyday and laugh over a mohito with the girls. 

I'm not that girl. and I never was.

So what am I to you, am I a friend or a thing? Because I feel less than the dirt beneath your feet and it's horrible and I don't want to feel that way anymore. I deserve to be happy.

I had a nightmare I had cancer, and I told you and you threw dates (like the food) at me, it was humiliating.

I need somebody to care. 

Right now you just really don't care about who I am. Or what I want. Or how you treated me and what I've been through with my mom and college and learning how much limitations my disabilties have.

Anyways, take care. You're gonna go places in the world.

And you'll find fancy mohito girl one day. Maybe she'll even be black! 

(wow Kelly way to be low key racist jealous for the past dozen years)

Yours Always,

Kells