Without You

Dear Ray,

I know that you don't think of me anymore. I know that, in truth, you're not even real. I'm writing to who I thought you were, who I thought you would stay. In short, the man I love.

I'm writing because my life hasn't turned out the way I wanted it to, at all. I know, welcome to the human family. Its been nearly two years since I've even seen you. Last I heard from you, you wanted my address to send me your wedding invitation. You included all these words about us being friends and missing me, but really, if either one of us thought it would have worked, we'd have picked up the phone and called.

Now, before you flatter yourself (that used to be my job - oh how I admired you), I want to make something clear. I haven't been pinning over you. Okay, so I can't listen to Switchfoot without crying, but honestly, it's not that often I think of you. Indeed, you hadn't entered my thoughts for months when I got that e-mail from you. And yet - right before I'm to be promoted, right as I'm losing weight, going to the gym, passing my certifications, feeling good about myself, getting my faith back - and yet you come back to haunt my thoughts after being gone for so long.

I do have a deep sense of regret for what was. I waited too long to tell you how I felt. I think that at one point it might have worked, but in my fears told me it wasn't a good fit, that it would never work. So I stayed silent, a martyr in my mind letting you go on to love anyone who wasn't me. And with time, I did fall out of love with you. I mean, how could I adore someone so clearly done with me?

You're so never going to see this - I was, at one time, in love with you.

Life has not been good. Not since day one. I used to pray to God, begging and bargaining with Him. I told Him that if I could just have your heart, I would give my whole life to make you happy. Tell me Ray, is that love? I truly don't know. I never knew love until I gave myself up in service. We had both sacrificed months of our lives to bring about a greater work. To relieve the poor and suffering, to bring hope to the hopeless, peace the abused, love to the empty.

I remember talking to "Mama M" once, telling her how much she and her family had taught me of love. She thought it was silly that I should say such things. After all, I came from a "perfect" family, right? Same old story, same old excuse. Same plot line from every bad girl gone good story in the universe - Mommy and Daddy didn't love their little girl enough.

But it goes deeper than that. Mother telling me I'm not good enough, that no one could ever love anyone as horrible as I was. Father just being gone, too coward to stand up for me. I remember when I once confessed my feelings to Mother about you - I told her there was you, how honorable and good and kind and sacrificing you were. Then there was Carl, who I was pretty sure liked me. But I remember he wasted the time he gave up, he was more interested in helping himself than the suffering. She told me that I should forget you and go for Carl. The better man would never want me.

I started giving up on this juvenile idea of "us" then. But what I didn't realized was that when things fell apart between us, I lost my best friend, the only person who ever gave me faith in myself.

I miss talking to you for hours and hours on the phone. I miss accidentally knocking my "hands free" headset out and you ripping on me for it, or being mock offended that I was multi-tasking while talking to you. I got this shiny new bluetooth headset, and it has no one to call. So often I want to hear you on the other end. I want you to make fun of me, tell me how bad my taste in music is, and what a math nerd I am.

But you won't. You've moved on. And I was the one that deleted your number first.

I've spent my life not remembering my past - not remembering those months when I was, for the first and only time in my life, truly happy. My happiest was when we were separated - not that we were separated, but just who I was during that time - and I don't know how to get it back again.

I think I've hit rock bottom. Sure, I'm a super successful "businesswoman" now, but it only shows me what my life is missing. I haven't been able to make a human connection since you left/I told you to go away. I can't stand my roommates, and I have no true friends anymore. Just people who love this superficial me, this act I put on for the world.

I never acted with you. I miss the freedom of being me. I miss seeing you, those watery blue eyes, your hair going gray in college.

If only you could love me still. You did, in a way, once. I think I was your best friend when you were mine. I need you - I need you as a friend, more than anything else in this world.

I'm releasing these pathetic letters into cyberspace. I got the idea at 2 am, when I couldn't sleep. I got the idea that I could write to that part of you that might be mine, that loved Adult Swim, and thought that Sparks was awesome. That part that laughed at my ridiculous statements, my insane behavior.

When we were separated, and we wrote those letters, that's when I feel in love with you. When you sent me tapes of you talking and singing that I listened to over and over and over again, that's when I was happy. I don't think I've ever been as excited as I was when I'd get a package from you in the mail.

And maybe, just maybe Ray, by writing to the fictional you in my memory that was, I'll remember the me that was. Perhaps I'll become the girl that can be loved again, and I'll find my own Ray, one that's real, and one that won't stop loving me.

But lets put such lofty aspirations aside. For now, I'm writing to my former best friend. I'm writing to the only person that understood me. I'm writing because I need to remember who I was, and no one knew me better then than you.

With Love,
- M