Dear Jake,

So you are moving to Missouri to join the military.

On the one hand I am really sad because I don't think this will have the magical effect on you you wish it would. It won't make you a better man. It won't change the world. I hope it will enable you to eventually return to the academic and research field less stressed about money, but I fear you'll travel further down the path of depression and anger and substance abuse.


On the other hand, I am so glad to see you fail. You blamed so much on me, so much of your old baggage, so much of your inability to relate honestly to other people. You blamed me for your strained friendships, you blamed me for "feeling stupid," you turned to a girl who you could feel intellectually superior to, you blamed me for your "moral failings," or however it is you choose to see normal adult relations these days. I'll never forget that I'm an immoral whore for loving you and letting you into my life.

I am sickly, morbidly happy that you thought it was so great that I'd have to deal with our relationship ending and your still being around. But you were wrong; you couldn't handle it. Whether it has anything to do with me, your entire life has fallen apart and you've completely given up. You told me you were nothing but small town white trash, and I didn't believe you, I knew you were something special, that you could do so much more and so much good in the world. But you seem to be doing everything to prove me wrong, to fulfill your own disfunctional and depressing view of yourself.

It makes me sad, but again, as you told me, I'll endure. I am strong. In the end, I suppose I've won. I'm still here. I fell, and I fucked up, but I recovered. Or I'm recovering. I'll always be recovering. And you'll be gone. And you'll cut ties with everyone here, and pretend they were never important to you. Hell, some of them never were. According to you, I never was. According to you, I don't even exist, except when I dare to show myself, dare to speak to people you know. Dare to keep thinking about you.

I won.

It's a hollow victory. And the sad truth is, I'd rather fail then have you fall.

Because, as you well know, I care more for other people than for myself.

It was never about saving you; it was always about saving me.

Dear Jake,

Today is my father's birthday. He was diagnosed with colon cancer last week and is having surgery to remove tumors today. It was one year and a day ago that you and I bought Louie, you're "bouncing baby boy." I have more to add, but I'm so tired. I sleep really sporadically and never during the best of sleeping hours.

I don't listen to music anymore.

I can barely look at my horses. The things that always gave me balance now unhinge me.

As you suggested, I feel almost as if I'm learning to hate you.

It doesn't really help.