An Open Letter (she knows who she is)
Hello,
I don’t need you to write me back. I am conflicted about that. [You can’t believe the problems I had writing the next couple sentences. No matter what I tried, I could not get them right. I have decided to punt. I will simply eliminate those words, end the paragraph in its original form, and move on.] As it goes, I am helpless when it comes to what you might or might not do, so do as you will, be it your worst (or your best), I am in no position to bargain.
I guess the main issue is, “why?” I remember you asking me that question years ago. Of course, I couldn’t tell you at the time. In retrospect, I think the answer is pretty damn obvious, and it would have been redundant for me to say anything. Unfortunately, I am old enough to know that The Old Scratch is usually in the details.
If I recall correctly, you once said, “I don’t understand why you are so upset!” Just so you know, I was upset, distraught, agitated, you name it. More than that, I was mad as hell. I guess you are still waiting for the “why,” aren’t you?
When I lived in that place back east (you know the one), I could sit at a table with 9 other people and quickly realize I was the 10th most interesting person in the room. When I left and returned to Hillybilly Land, that was no longer the case. I quickly realized there was no one to talk to, no one to have a reasonable conversation with…and then, out of nowhere, came you. Meeting you was unexpected. What is the opposite of hyperbole? Whatever it is, I believe I have mastered it.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: Yeah, I searched around, and the only thing I could find was “understatement” in the antonym lists. There should be more options, don’t you think? And yes, I do know what hypobole is, but I can’t bring myself to type it (even though I just did).
As you know, I used to be in the business of mentoring special young people. Why would I do such a thing? It is straightforward; I had often thought about how different my life would be if I had known the adult version of myself when I was a teen. I didn’t know any such person, and I suffered because of it. I certainly do not blame anyone; how could they have known what I was thinking or what I was capable of? They couldn’t. Nothing to see here; let’s move along. Let’s talk about you and the impact you had on my life.
I tend to pride myself on my ability to recognize raw ability. It was clear to me that you were very talented. That part wasn’t hard to figure out; I was more than willing to invest my time and energy into such a person. And, yeah, I really liked having you around. The complications came later.
It never occurred to me that I would wake up one day to a revelation, an unexpected and unwelcome one. It wasn’t my intention; I never should have let it happen. It is all my fault. I certainly knew better. I just didn’t realize what was transpiring until I was out of the shallow. I vividly remember the morning when I knew I had let something unacceptable happen. It was a flash, an insight that still makes me shake my head. It arrived just as I was standing up and putting on a shirt. Damn it all.
So, this is “why” I got so angry. I am a person that does not allow himself to look forward to things. Maybe it is a Zen influence; perhaps I just figured out long ago that it is hard to be disappointed if you never look forward.
Against my better judgment, I was looking forward to that night. The last time we were there, I got inspired; I mean really inspired. I had such a good time with you that I went home and wrote eight chapters of a novel I had been working on. I couldn’t stop typing. I was curious to see if the same thing would happen that night. As the story goes, we never made it there.
I was so disappointed, but not in you. It was all my fault. I knew better. I still don’t understand how I got in that situation. It never should have happened, and that is entirely my doing. The problem is that sometimes we find ourselves as passengers in our own lives. There is no fork in the road to consider or wheel to grab. Time simply compels us to act even though we are oblivious to the consequences.
Then, of course, came the hard part. I decided that I had to do what was best for me. You were well on your way; you certainly didn’t need me. You were on the proper path with a future that would be as brilliant as you wanted.
As you get older, you will understand that the only thing each of us can do is our best, especially when we are out over our skis. Did I fail you? I don’t know. I did what I thought was right. Was I right? I have no idea.
I have often written about a problem I have with the universe. Evolution and natural selection make it clear that the universe is not cruel; it is simply indifferent. When something like this happens, it makes me take pause. I am always inclined to link indifference to cruelty; after all, I have firsthand experience of what happened. I can’t see a single reason why such a fiasco was orchestrated in the first place. People always say everything happens for a reason. Really? I will sit patiently as I wait for the universe to give me any insight it feels fit. Before I go, I must admit that I told a lie earlier, not a big one, just a little white one. The Old Scratch isn’t usually found in the details; The Old Scratch is always in the details.
