January 28, 2025
january 28, 2025
My Jakey Jake,
I can’t stop thinking about our last few letters, and your question. Am I actually happy in my life? Could I really see myself living this way?
I stared at my phone multiple times, wondering if I should call you. It would be so much easier than a letter. I wouldn’t have to wait all of this time to hear your thoughts, and we could have a real conversation. But every time I stared at your name on my screen, I couldn’t do it. It’s easier to write it out and send it. Somehow, it feels less scary. Like what I write here doesn’t count if I’m not saying it out loud. Does that even make sense?
Also, yes. I do have your number on my phone. I could have been texting you this whole time. But I like our letters. I kind of don’t want them to end.
Jake, you absolutely deserve happiness. Those years you said you spent in darkness do not make you unworthy of love. Struggling with mental illness doesn’t take you off the chessboard of life, or whatever other metaphor you want to throw in there. Every person in the world enters a relationship with some kind of baggage, whether it be illness or trauma or debt. There’s always something. Having baggage is normal, Jake. You are also very special. You should be happy. I really, really want you to be happy.
Maybe you’re right. Maybe this life I’m living feels comfortable now, but I won’t be satisfied with it long term. I do want to be with someone, but I have no idea how to open my heart to that again. How do I live with the pain when it’s so much easier to push it aside?
Woah. Getting deep. I’m sorry. That was a lot.
Shelly