Ken.

Here is where my dignity went. 

I slipped too comfortably into a relationship in which I couldn’t win.  The one you told me about.  The one you warned me about.  Things ended just about the way you said they would, and my only wish is that you could be here to look me in the face, hold it in your hands, and say, “I told you so.” 

New York is just like you said it would be.  Julliard is enormous, the people are brilliant, the professors are extraordinary, they’re stimulating, and the work is difficult but rewarding.  When night falls, broken glass litters the sky and catches the reflections of every headlight, streetlight, and candle below.  But when you look out your window all you can see is your own reflection because everything beautiful is so far above you, so out of reach. 

And the only person that hates the face in the window more than me is you. I’m so sorry I’m not the person you were.  I tried to be so hard.  I would give any and all of my meaningless talent to be half of who you were.

I’m not in New York and I’m not attending Julliard, for no reason other than my own stupidity.  I simply didn’t go.  I stayed here in my panic and my depression and dug myself into a rut in which I couldn’t escape.  I got a job working for a corporation that wouldn’t allow me my favorite sneakers or my torn up jeans.  I started wearing pinstripes and button up shirts.  I was promoted.  I left that corporation for an insurance company.  I changed my major to International Business and have a new shiny car.  And I am ashamed. 

My only redeeming factor is that I’m not stuck with this label, and I know this is not where I want to be.  Right now I’m at work wearing my sneakers and my jeans and tonight I’m throwing out [Godwill] half my wardrobe.  I’m changing my major back to English, Theatre, and Education.  I have missed the boat on acting- but I want to go overseas and teach English either as a DODs teacher, or actually teach the language in Italy, France, Germany, Japan, etc.

It’s getting cold again and I look at that lake and watch it freeze over and my heart slips under the surface. And I talked to a good friend into the wee hours of last night and was able to talk about the things we used to.  I know I’ve said this before, but you and John made me realize my own mortality.  I have taken all my favorite things about the world and stitched them into a very colorful, yet invisible blanket, which I keep tugged very close to me.  I’ve opened my eyes to everything I so blindly followed- but I want to believe in a heaven because I want to see you again.

I miss you.