Wednesday, August 20, 2014

A letter from Wesley

Dear Lesa,                                                                                                              8-15-14

We spoke earlier, and I told you how I am currently without words.  With that in mind, I begin this letter describing my affliction with the sole intent of putting words on paper.

It is always that first word, that first word that breaks the dam.  Yet, here I continue writing about not having anything to say.

I could say that I love you, and that is without a doubt true. I love you, I adore you, I an't imagine my life with you, yet I can't help but feel that I may have held you for the last time.

On the tail end of our trip, you were expressing some frustration with me and on more than one occasion told me you "couldn't live this way."  You told me that was just frustration with some of the events unfolding but I couldn't help but see it a different way: that I'm a loser, you should be with someone better, and you will have ample opportunity to meet a doctor, a nurse, a cop, a __________, just not me, who would be a better life for you.

Not that this is what you meant, but when those words come out of your mouth when I am about to go away indefinitely, that is how a felt--feel. 

So I have felt myself contracting, shrinking.  I feel my feelings drying up, wagons circling, walls building, and my "self" disappearing.  I am quiet in here, withdrawn, and cold.  I don't imagine I could be lower.

But I have written and I have told you why I feel dead inside.  I am dead because no matter how much I love you I feel like I will never touch you, kiss you, or hold you again.  

And it is my own doing.

I have put myself into a cage and you, needlessly, with me.  You are sweet and funny, full of life and beautiful.  Many good years left for you to enjoy with your wonderful kids.  That doesn't necessarily mean me.

Make no mistake, I desperately love you and don't know what I would do without you.  I would be done, for sure.   I dunno.  Those words keep streaming through my head.  I'm screwed up and I don't want to drag you down with my self destructive brain.

I love you, and my heart is heavy, and I'm afraid.  I guess that sentence explains as much as the preceding pages, maybe more.

Love always, Wesley

Lesa,                                                                8/16/2014

And then there is today.  I'm sitting here in bed reading, which I have been doing since I got in here.  Reading in hopes of falling asleep.  Sometimes works, sometimes it does not.

Once again I'm at a loss for anything other than spewing depression.  Nice.

I will try some more later.  I got nothing right now.

Lesa,                                                               8/17/2014

You have come and gone.  It was very nice seeing you--especially wearing your pig tails and pink shirt.   I'm sorry if I was bad company.  

I'm really trying to be upbeat.  Or medium beat or any beat.  It's eluding me.

I will do better in the future.

I love you, 
Love always, 
Wesley






No comments:

Post a Comment