 |
|||||||||||||
 |
|
 |
|||||||||||
 |
 |
||||||||||||
Dear Jay, Did you know that when I was younger, confused, and just beginning the depression that would stretch out to last years and years, run my life, tuck me in at night, I created a fictional person. Not so much an imaginary friend, but more like a dream. I created this boy, my age, and the best part about him was that he didn't care what anyone else thought. He was my best friend, my almost-boyfriend, and he loved me unconditionally, regardless of the fact that I was unattractive, unsure, a nerd to the core. He thought I was beautiful in all the ways that made me Allie. I named him Jay. Funny, looking at myself then and now. Funnier, comparing my imaginary Jay to my real life Jay. You have been my best friend, my almost-boyfriend, and you have come back to me, again and again. You may not love me unconditionally, but at least you're drawn to me, and that's a start. Though now I am "beautiful", I am still a nerd to the core, and still sometimes unsure. You like the things that make me Allie, and undeniably, you find these things beautiful. When you left me at the very beginning of last summer, I was devastated. You would be, too, if you knew the true consequences of your actions. Sometimes I wonder if deep down, you really do. You know that when I came back into your life, it was with an eating disorder, having left me 30 pounds thinner. Do you know that when I originally stopped eating, it was because you left me? Do you know that I slept with three different boys that summer in attempts to forget about you? You've taught me so much about life. All of my best memories are with you; They far exceed the memories I imagined with my pretend Jay. From the drunken Taco Bell adventure, to you "tasting green" on that acid trip, to hanging out of the sunroof, to me sobbing into your shoulder on BTay's swingset the first time we reunited after the first time you abandoned me, to the ecstacy, to being protected from a moshpit, to running from police in fishnets, to cooking you chili and cornbread. You helped me transition from a girl to a woman. And that's where I sit now. A woman. You've let me back in, and this time, you're putting forth an effort. You've found that the man in you really likes the woman in me. Deep down, I think you knew it all along, and it scared you. But you're ready now. And it might not work out, but at least we'll both rest assured, knowing we gave it an honest try. So here I am. A woman, sitting on your couch, watching you play some stupid game on the Playstation. A woman who cooks you mac and cheese when you're too stoned to get off the couch, a woman who lays in your arms in your bed under your blanket every night, and kisses your forehead once you're asleep. A woman, falling for this stupid redheaded man, after she vowed to never ever trust him again. Again, and again, and again. Please forgive my caution, and please forgive me for the little things, like not playing with your hair the way you play with mine, and not wanting to make out every night before bed. It's just that if I'm going to do this, I want to do it the right way- the way that feels right for me. I love you. I have since I met you, on Perth, and you showed me what it was like to want someone so bad you would have done anything to have just once night, one minute, one second with them. You still owe me a revolution, and I'm holding you to that. Peace, love, revolution, Your Allison. Post a comment in response: |
| © 2002-2008. Blurty Journal. All rights reserved. |