Brok,
I got another letter today. It made me sad. But at least you wrote it to me…
Do you really, really believe that you do not matter to me? If that were true, I would not do this. I would not have EVER done it. Last time when you went away I wrote to you simply because you MATTER, period. Stop reading nothing but the negatives, Brok. READ IT ALL
I did not mean to imply that what you do from here on out is my business…but that if you were doing it before you moved out, to please tell me.
I also want you to know that I took your advice and called the public defender. Their services are not available for the type of offenses I have committed: not having car insurance, not registering the car on time, letting my driver's license expire, etc.
But I did take your advice. That is to say I tried to take your advice.
I don't pretend to know everything, Brok. I do pretend to know something. There is a difference, and what I had hoped you would attempt again to teach me is astral projection. What I had hoped you would open up enough to learn is love, which I do believe in.
You say your way works. Then you say it does not, never has. In my history of relationships there is not a pattern. No man ever left me because it had come down to who are you fucking.
You need not overstate my puzzlement over Notsure's refusal to let me read the letter. And we are still friends and will remain so. I did not THINK anything until she said, no, you can't read the letter. And even then I did not create any kind of godawful scenario within my brain, I just wondered why? what did he say that I cannot hear? I was afraid that you had made an overture in the letter, suggesting something greater than friendship when you get out. And if so, it is not as if I could say to either of you, you can't do that! but I did not want to be wounded by such a thing - and humiliated by ignorance. That is all…nothing more.
If you really believe that I do not care about you, then you do not know me. You did not delineate the ideal scenario; even now I am unclear as to just HOW you think it should, and would, work. And you bitched about the candle wax and I quit candles. It was an extremely minor sacrifice.
My ideal scenario was having a boyfriend for a change. A date on New Year's Eve. Flowers on Valentine's Day. A steady fuck. We went from virtual strangers to housemates. It seemed necessary…you had no money, no place to stay. We wanted to be together anyway. But I wonder now if it was the skipping over of that period of dating that may have made the difference. I do not know, and it probably wouldn't have. It seems that you do want to move right in with her whoever she may be.
The basic irony that kills me is that being who I am makes you love me and makes you not love me. And you SAY it in the letter I got today:
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