1. I have by now written many things about, for, and to you. Some of these things are positive and celebratory, a sort of sunny day testament to the fond recollections I have of all the wonderful times we had together. Some are grief-stricken and panicked, the way I sometimes feel when I am awake and alone very late at night. Some of them are terrible hacky shit, some of them I believe could actually pass for decent writing. In fact, every piece of writing that anyone has ever seen or heard or heard of from me is, in some way, about, for and to you.
2. Every time I publish one of these pieces of writing that is about you and us in a very direct, literal way, it is full of secrets. It is full of things I have never told anybody else. And having betrayed the intimacy of our life together, I feel all at once like a liar and an asshole and a gossip, but I also feel like I’m giving away tiny little pieces of a very large, burdensome, wildly expensive thing that I can no longer afford to have hanging around the house.
3. I also wonder if you have ever told anybody else about us, in a literal, direct sort of way. And I wonder if you did, why did you; how did you; how did it make you feel? I wonder who you told. I very seldom wonder what you told them.
4. Every time I publish our secrets, I wonder if you will ever read them. This question is both exhilarating and terrifying.
5. I am sad, like, pretty much all of the time. If this sounds exhausting, that’s because it is.
6. I made out with one of your friends not very long ago. I met him in a bar, completely by random, and I don’t believe in fate, but I fooled myself into it just for that moment. I genuinely believed, for one foolish hour, that this would somehow hurt you enough to bring you back into my presence. Yes, this is how I think. Yes, you were right for everything.
7. You were 25 when we broke up and I am 25 now. I am making many of the same errors in judgement. I am amazed at how adult-like I do not feel.
8. Writing is the most selfish thing about me, and I am an unmistakably selfish person.
9. I am repulsed by people who get emotional in bars but I myself get incredibly emotional in bars. Emotions in bars feel like shadows or projections of the real thing. Emotions in bars are like actor stand-ins for the real thing. My grief in this particular instance is played by Phillip Seymour Hoffman.
10. When I am by myself, I often find myself thinking about the old days and sometimes I get so angry, I just scream into a pillow until I am too tired to continue. When I told Kate about this behavior, she told me that it was time I finally got myself some help.
11. I am terrified of the day you accidentally walk into a place where I am but I keep looking for it. I keep trying to will it to happen.
12. If that day ever does come, I will most likely hide in the bathroom until I no longer see you and then I will run out the door like Hell is chasing me and I will hate myself for the rest of my life because of it.
13. Sometimes, I tell people that I am divorced. It is not to get attention. I really feel that way.
14. These articles that I write usually make me look like a total asshole but I think people actually like me more because of that, because everyone is a total asshole when they are in love and young, everyone is stupid sometimes. I am like a puppy who is stupid and reckless and destructive and pisses on everything and ruins everything but I am a puppy and people will love me anyway and this is in absolutely no way a comforting fact to me. I am a selfish, reckless, destructive, clumsy asshole and that’s all there is to it.