Dear (Don't trip)
We were at my mom's house and had just finished watching The Color Purple with popcorn and friends and family and we went on a snack run to 7 eleven and why were we in California at the same time? That was rare. Maybe that's what made the trip special. We were there at the same time. You were so concerned about getting to your friend's house at a decent hour, because that's what house guests do right? They arrive at door steps at decent hours? I should have known then, that word decent and all.
It wasn't until I flew back home and found out that there was no home boy or decent hour you were concerned with. You stayed with your ex girlfriend. Left me at my mother's to continue my visit and showed up at her door step. See, it was your bucket of deceit. Constantly. It's my fault though. For believing you when I knew I shouldn't have. I wasn't able to write about this before. Just held the stories inside and went on with my life. I have done so much work on and with myself that finally these are just memories. Ok, not...just. Stories in my journals. Memories releasing themselves slowly from my DNA like fecal matter from months ago.
I wish that I had written through the cactus days of my pain. Regret holding it in so long. But I was caught up in protecting you back then for some reason. Didn't want folks to know. Or perhaps I was protecting myself. Didn't want folks to know that I could hurt so badly. That I could have been such a fool. Whatever. I didn't. Maybe it's for the best.
Oh, remember we went on a date the night your mother went to see the play The Color Purple and I asked you who she went with and you said one of her friends? Silly guy, you could have just told me that the other woman you were seeing had taken her. You could have saved yourself some money because I probably would have been too upset to eat. Oh well. You were so creative. But I was too you know. Creative. Like how I convinced myself that we could work somehow. Oh bless my heart. But you weren't completely a liar though. There were times you told the truth. Like when you went out of town (oh the many times you went out of town) and when you came back we fought about whatever and in the middle of the conversation I asked if you were faithful to me while you were gone and almost immediately you said "No. No I wasn't." Dang, homie! You could have paused. At least pretended like it broke you up or something. I gotta give it to you though. I knew then that that was your way of telling me that your dance card was full and that I could get the hell out of your life or put up with it. Sure I was upset about it. But I stayed. Until I didn't.
But of course times weren't always bad. There were good times and laughs. There were plenty of laughs. You were good for that. Why am I this sucker for a laugh? There was even a camera. Hey, remember the camera you bought me for Christmas? You brought it over all wrapped and watched me open it. Aww you! Then we had sex (because now I know it was never love) but you couldn't stay the night because you HAAAAD to get home. HELLLLLOOOO, JAHA! RED FLAG HERE! Then I found out the very next day that The Color Purple lady was your girlfriend girlfriend and that I was the other woman. Silly of me to think that I... And I found that out on Facebook of all places. Go figure. When I called you and asked you why you had sex with me when you had a girlfriend and you said, "Because I wanted to." At least that time you had a little sorrow in your voice. Good thing for those acting classes. But hey, I got a camera out of the deal. Oh hey, I just found out that Nikon doesn't even make that model anymore. I thought it ironic that that model is out of production and so are we. Is that ironic? I get confused. Anyway, go ahead, laugh. You remember how cute corny was on me.
You remember my friend, Mo? You never met her but I think I mentioned her to you. Anyway, when my relationships go south, and they usually do (I swear it's me), then I call Mo and we talk. She's really good. I should give you her number. Anyway, one time after beating up on myself she said something I hope to always remember. She said, "Girl, I gotta give it to you. With as much as you have been through in relationships, you never give up on love. You're like a weeble." She's so funny. Remember weebles? They were those little egg shaped toys and the song on the commercial would go, "Weebles wobble but they don't fall down!" Oh the good ole days. They don't make toys like they used to. I'm off track. My point is that Mo was right. I've never given up on love and hopefully I never will. I was sketchy there for a while. After us. I felt angry and hurt and all Denzel's back in Glory (maybe you saw it). But as I said earlier, I've done a lot of work. Been in therapy. Not just about you. You know enough of my history to know that I needed therapy long before you. And it's been helping too. My first therapist (I'm on my second one. Long story. Judge yourself.) gave me this example about an onion and layers and peeling and stinking and triggers and pain and stages of grief. It was good. You should have been there. Anyway, I'm like, in my stages and all of the writing is how I peel my onion layers. Whatever, maybe this makes sense. Well, you will be happy to know that it's helping.
Well dear I could go on and on but my flight is about to end and I must put this iPad away but it's been (index finger on temple, confused eyes in the sky) thinking about you. Take care of yourself.
Yours (well not anymore. I'm mine now. I have my days when life isn't easy, but surely I'm mine now.)