I have a confession to make. I have been the worst letter writer of all time these last two months. I still send him at least one email every week, usually more, but I haven't sat down and sent something hand-written in awhile. Why? Because it hurts. More than seven months after he left, I'm okay and life is good. But there's something you should know: I'm a writer. That's just the way things are. So when I sit down to write a letter, it's not a one or two page letter. It's a minimum of four pages. Front and back. Always. That takes time and it forces me to remember...oh yeah. I still miss him. A lot. Sending emails, however, is quick and painless. I can let him know what's going on in my life and that I haven't forgotten about him without completely realizing that he's real...because let's be honest. It doesn't always feel that way. In a mixture of my words and the words of another MG...
Sometimes I think he is fake.
I have an imaginary boyfriend.
(Might as well get that out there...)
He used to be real.
At least I think he was.
It's just that...
It's been a while, you know?
I write letters to a man living in Argentina.
Supposedly.
Every month and a half I get a few letters;
and I remember that I know he is real.
I read his thoughts and I know he exists.
Then I wait.
But he doesn't stay real.
All of a sudden he's imaginary again.
Was there ever anything tangible to this?
I hardly remember what it was like having him here -
...he was here
...Right?
Sometimes I think I'll get so used to being apart from him,
I won't know how to be around him again.
And that's scary.
Assuming he's real.
And if he is, he's coming back, right?
Hopefully?
At least
I think hopefully.
I'm not really sure what it's going to be like when he comes back.
If he comes back.
It was great when he was here...
Right?
Or am I just remembering the good parts
because that's all I want to remember?
We will be different...
and then what?
Will I still want him?
Will he still want me?
I think so.
I hope so.
