Dear Friend, I will tonight commit to these lines all that I can bear to say.
We are the only souls here and our somber conversations weave themselves between words. We are not simple and these nights are more than spoken things can say. I recall to you first, my hand upon your wrist. I was guiding us during the early morning. It was still dark outside. Were my eyes dancing? I cannot see them without a mirror and I always wonder if my they tell my secrets. I do know that we were there and it took all the strength I had not to hold you in some way. But, that night respect tethered my arms and my lips, leaving me to be your ear and wait. The first words from your mouth were cautious. Then, your story began and I wondered if my love would only complicate things. So, I kept it to myself promising only to speak of it once and in passing. That way, I am deeply a coward. But, I see so much in you. You talked about the sins of your father and how you felt like you were one of too many. At least that is what I heard and saw. They are the things I try to understand. I could tell that it was hard for you to lose yourself in someone else, but not hard for you to lose yourself entirely in other dreams. Then, I wanted to tell you my secrets, but they are so dark that even a conversation about our families isn’t deep enough to begin the story. I loved you in that moment, yet felt silent and it is that silence that I am breaking now. The morning that we met, I didn’t tell you that I fell in love with you and I didn’t tell you that I was sick. Both things I mean to explain now. First, I do love you despite my secrets. I keep them from everyone. So listen to this. It’s you I want to hold close. It’s you that I want to stay with me. I want you to tell me everything you can bear to say. I promise you my ear as devotion. I make these declarations out of the hope that you will learn to trust me. That is something I think you have trouble doing even though you say more than I do. In writing, I am telling you that I will make the first step in trusting you. So, I begin to say, I have illness that people run from. It doesn’t have a name. It is an illness of the mind and is treated with heavy and life altering medication. The official title is mood disorder, n.o.s. (not otherwise specified). I take too medications for it. One is suspected of causing birth defects; so consequently, I can’t have children of my own without a very expensive procedure and a surrogate. The aftermath of this is that men that want to have kids treat me as though I have the plague, leaving men that don’t want to have kids and usually are not looking for a commitment. I have gotten used to thinking of relationships as temporary. Not because I want them to be emotionally shallow, but because I am afraid that the eventual conclusion will be his disappointment. I don’t know about tomorrow or how you will feel about my limitations. If being my lover will not make you happy, I will indeed stay your friend. But, please don’t be temporary. Don’t run if romance is not what you want. After telling you that I want you to stay, I will tell you the scariest part. Because I am trusting you I will tell you what it feels like inside the severest mental break I have ever had. At first it starts slowly, I get my memories mangled and conversations are not correct in my head. Then, I don’t know what people have really said to me. It escalates until realtime reality starts to have a strange hue to it. Environmental
noises begin to impede on my sense of safety and then being around people takes a strange and scary turn. I can no longer in those moments handle the presence of other people their twitches and movements feel like their stabbing into my body. People begin to react to me defensively and it escalates with their anger, until I start to shut down and retreat into unreal and even horrific scenarios of fiction. Here I become the victim of crimes without being able to see or touch the assailant. It’s like being attacked by ghosts, but it goes on for months both day and night. I remember being in the hospital and curling into a ball between the lockers unable to move or respond, until a nurse finally started screaming at me that I was not allowed to hide. I came out and ate something. Eventually, and I don’t know why, they got me to take medication and I slowly came out of it. Which leaves me to where I am now. I can’t go back to that. I must be on medication. I still have symptoms with my memory and recalling reality in shallow social situations. But, I do remember serious conversations and I certainly do love you. So, I promise to be your friend even if you cannot be my lover. When other people go through horrific things they are pitied, but I am treated with disgust. Not only do you survive the unimaginable, but you’re blamed for it. It’s the only illness where it is okay to make fun of the person that is sick. The only way you survive it, is to choose life. I choose to try until stigma stops me. I wake up every morning and say that today I will do my best. So, I take my medication, I get good grades in school and I still make the effort to love and meet people. I do want to trust you. So these things I want you to understand. Be grateful when you have a home. Be grateful when you have your health. Never take life or love for granted. These things are precious always try for them and hold them dear. I love you, so I am trying to make you understand. Please hold the sincerity of these words close to your heart. Love, Cyndi