“we were wild and fluorescent, come home to my heart.”
My little love. As I begin writing this it is 2:24am and I am drunk. Surprise, surprise: it’s gin. My brother is in town this weekend for the Fourth of July and I went out with his friends that live here. I spent the whole night thinking of you. It was easy to do, because I always think of you, but we also walked by the intersection that you and I met on. I lit a cigarette.
It’s given me a few thoughts that I would like to share with you:
My little love. I know you are afraid. I know that an LGBT relationship is something you honestly may not be ready for – even though you tried for it a year ago (this weekend marks one year since I walked away from you, did you know that?). I just want you to know that there is no rush. I want to tell you how badly I still feel for you. But I don’t want to rush. You have so much happening in your life, so many wonderful things. Why should I damper your thrill with something you may be choosing to forget?
But oh, my little love. You deserve to know. You treat me so kindly. You refer to me as a friend – little do you know how much that hurts. How much I want to be more than just your friend. But if I cannot be your lover I will be just that, your friend. I will love you in whatever way I can. Because I will never stop loving you. And if I must present that love in a friendly manner, I will. I will do whatever works best for you.
My little love. Did you know that on my 24th birthday I cried over you. Steven was there and he was being… well… Steven. Very confusing. I went into the bathroom because I felt upset. My friend followed me in. Now I was hammered and didn’t remember what I cried about but I remembered crying. The next day my friend told me about it and I asked if I cried about Steven. He seemed shocked. He thought I remembered.
I cried about you. I cried about missing you. I cried about wishing you were there with me on my birthday. I cried about you being distant. I cried about wanting to see you.
I always cry on my birthday. Growing up is never what it seems.
My little love. I will love you in whatever way I possibly can – in whatever way is best for you. You need to know that. My silly boy with the wild eyes and even wilder hair. The silly boy who takes the tears from my eyes and places them in the sky as stars. I’m sure you know all of them by name. You have a way of creating beauty out of pain. In finding joy out of heartache. You inspire me. You have taught me to what it means to be alive. Me, the boy who always felt so disconnected from the world, so beaten down and defeated by the cruel reality of living. And yet your rose a phoenix from the ashes. You brought me back to life and showed me colors I had never imagined.
My little love. No matter the pain it causes me if we can never be together. I will tell you my feelings, and leave the rest up to you. I would far rather be honest with you and be heartbroken than to lie and keep on wondering what could have been. And no matter what happens, I will always be there for you. Always. Because I truly love you. And your happiness is for more important to me than my own. I am used to be unhappy – and that is a feeling I would die a thousand times over to assure you never have to feel.
My little love. Let me leave you with the words of John Milton: “better to reign in hell, than serve in heaven.”
With all the love in my heart,