In My Pink High Heels

13.05.2010

Dear Baby

It’s almost been 5 months since we ‘broke up’ in the most unconventional of ways. Even though there was a period there of a couple of weeks where your eyes never seemed to meet mine, we have grown accustomed to a light - hearted camaraderie and frequent dates I have both enjoyed and looked forward to.

These months apart have not been especially ground -breaking for me in terms of re-evaluating our relationship and truth be told I have made my time alone an excuse to cause all kinds of trouble. But yet you were there. With the utmost trust in your eyes, and an unshakable hope.

I’m not coming to you in this letter as a better human being, or as one who has learned some grand lesson meted out to me by the universe. I’m not coming to you contrite and humble. I come as always, confident, verbose and secretly insecure.

There is no need to speak about my past dalliances that spiraled us in to this disarray, desperately trying to make sense of my tidal wave of infidelity. I cannot fathom it myself, neither can I excuse it. It is what it is, wrong, painful and incredibly timely. Yet I cannot help but wonder where we would be if not for my indiscretion. I bet we’d be bored, anxious and hapless. It came at a point in our relationship where we kept pushing away the inevitable crossroads that confront any good relationship past its prime and forming fungi. So then, does this not sound like a break up letter? Bear with me awhile and indulge my need for grandeur and dramatics.

I write this way not to be condescending or pompous, I write this way because I can, and because it’s the best way to write, eloquently yet creatively and I believe you are one of the few men I know who can comprehend this. But this letter is not well thought of, hence these words are not premeditated but spontaneous. America Ferrera in The Sisterhood of Traveling Pants 2 reading Shakespeare said, this is how people should talk. And regardless of my relentless slang and funny ways to say ‘fuck’ I believe in saving the purest form of writing for pure individuals for you.

This letter is not going to be one of those letters I sent to you in my youth, boasting your brilliance and severely chastising myself for being immature and careless. This time has made me realize that part of my problem is holding you high on the pedestal others place you, so I will not pedestal you this time Baby, I hope that my lack of compassion will be set off by your lack of Brad Pitt cheek bones and for once you and I, at least for the entirety of this letter will be on equal ground.

I understand it was my need for escape and my need to shake things up that caused our rift, but I also realize that it was me in the context of you that created my need for escape. It seems that I have already made up my mind that we are no good for each other, but bear with me. It gets marginally better.

But then I look at all my quests of escape, religion, sex, infidelity, alcohol, drugs, music, experimentation, nicotine, decadence and realize that is never enough either. Then I count the days these quests have held my interest, I see peaks and valleys, I see recessions and booms, I see a sprinkling here and a sprinkling there, I never see stability, permanence or even contentment. You should have know I would break your heart. You should have known that nothing ever makes me or you ultimately and completely happy.

However in my life I have encountered other quests that have held my attention out of loyalty, societal pressure or madness that stem from a place in my heart that I am yet to come to terms with. There is where I store my tumultuous relationships with my parents, the memory of my grandmother, my unmoving work ethic, my church, my God, my family, the thought of happiness, picket fences and cocker spaniels. And there lies some peace, never long standing but forever engraved in my heart and forever self-replenishing. There lies static contentment, wholesomeness and my need to be a part of a system I have forever rebelled against. There lies my wishful thinking. There lies you.

I don’t know if you will receive this letter before or after I have said I want you back in my life forsaking all bohemian concepts of individuality and independence but here it is for the world to see - I'm stuck on you. even though I cannot guarantee fidelity or unwavering compassion, even though I do not believe in the institution of marriage, even though you have very little say in any of this and are at this moment wondering why you put up with my asinine attempts to love you, even though I am afraid of being dependent on another, even though sometimes I dislike you very strongly. Even though I cannot give you the family in it’s completeness that you want. So maybe then you are wondering why, after this tirade of brutal honesty and self-indulgence why, why?

Because you are the one that understands me, loves me, completes me? No.

Because you take up my time. Large chunks of it.

Me who cannot sit still, be polite, rational content, me who cannot hold a decent drug habit, a part time rendezvous or an intelligent conversation, me - hyper-active, obsessive compulsive, childish, fantastic and pseudo brave, you hold my fascination, my imagination, my night time ponderings and daytime wonderings. I tire of you only to want you again, I hate you only to fall in love with you again, I cheat on you only to cheat on him with you, I create ways to hurt us only to heal us again. I cannot get rid of you, I cannot stop my mind straying to you, I cannot rid my mind of marriage and children because of you, I cannot fail because of you, I cannot cry alone because of you, I cannot make up my mind up because of you, I cannot make love to another because of you, I cannot smile without the thought of you.

I love you only because there is no other way. You’re my only option in a sea of alternatives. You’re my only desire when I have exhausted my cravings. You’re the only person I will allow to share my spotlight, you’re the only person my body will allow inside.

I, in my conceited, superficiality and outrageous liaisons are coming to you exhausted of escaping, tired of trying, sick of faking, I’m here to tell you one thing and one thing alone that makes all of the above worthless… Marry Me, do it out of compassion, you see, I’d be worthless without you.

posted by pINKhIGHhEELS @ 2:43 AM