Musings in the Key of Blue

dearest Charlie,

i hope you and yours are well. i'm thinking of you.

i wanted to give you a little ray of sunshine today, so i hope you see this.

when you get back home you can stay with me for a couple days if you want. (i'd understand if you are longing for your house though.) i'll cook for you, pamper you, and generally take good care of you. there can be movies, games, or blessed nothingness. whatever you want. think of it as a potential vacation to recover from your vacation.

you are loved.

- Jack

dear emperor,

stop taking my fucking car. we're going on three days in a row. it's pissing me off. no means no you son of a bitch. i don't care if you're the one who pays the bills - it's my car. fix yours or get a new one, but stop taking mine. especially when i'm too damn sick to drive to the store in 100 degree weather without AC. i can't take yours - stop taking mine! i hate being stranded because you feel entitled. it causes me unbelievable stress knowing that i can't leave my house and that you're probably driving like an asshole in my car. fuck you. fuck you very much. oh, and one more thing, fix your fucking brakes. i almost killed myself driving your damn car to buy orange juice.

sincerely, the owner of the black VW


dear princess of disks,

i'm not who i was. it is not 1995. please try to understand that times have changed, and so has our relationship. i can't fill up the emptiness and i can't be your life - i have my own. i know you need me. i don't need you. don't try to force things back to the way they were, you'll be disappointed and hurt. build something new if you want. i'm alright with that. but if you try and cram yourself into every facet of my life i will shut you out in the cold.

no, you can't come back to game. no, i won't start a new one just for us 'girls'. (by the way, if you knew me better you would stop phrasing things like that. i've never had a girls vs. boys attitude like you and i'm not on your side anyway.) no, i'm not writing my next novel about something we created in high school. no, you can't hang out over here every day because your new house doesn't have AC. no, you can't sleep over all the time like 'the good ol' days'. no, you most certainly cannot join writing group. and no, you're not still my close, trusted, number one friend. you were the closest thing i had to a sister, but the answer is still no.

you dragged me out shopping for a new backpack when i was obviously trying not to fall over from illness. i stood next to you, burning with fever, as you debated your decision for nearly an hour. my phone rang. it was my real true blue best buddy. you laughed and asked in jest if i could handle two of you. i almost choked. no. no, i can't. what you fail to realize is that if cuts are made, it's you not her. it's true that you and her are similar, but you're not the same. notably she's part of my present while you are rooted in my past. and there's a reason for that. i'm sorry.

regretfully, Jack


dear illness,

get out. seriously. get the fuck out. this is an eviction notice. i've got shit to do other than struggle for breath and choke on my own fluids. go away. fuck off. leave me alone.

- Jack


dear princess of cup's family,

stop being drama. can't you see she and i need a drama free week? you're sapping her dry. it's uncool. and on a selfish note i miss my friend. so how about showing some familial compassion and let the girl go home and relax. just because she's unemployed doesn't mean she's your doorstop or that she's not busy. now kindly take your family to the shelter where they can get the care they need and stop running my kind hearted friend into the ground. it's the right thing to do for everyone involved. honest.

sincerely, Jack

in the tradition of a lovely, yet inscrutable, girl i once knew, i shall now pen a few letters i have no intention of sending. the irony here is that i don't write letters, nor do i ever send them. perhaps if i write enough unsent ones i'll actually work up to writing a real one to my grandmother.

* * *
dear Charlie,

thank you so much for your advice and understanding (now and always). i've been thinking about the things you said and you're right: another name will never feel quite right. i can't be dishonest with myself. not now. not after i have been so many times in the past. i'm trying to be true to myself, and choosing another name because of someone else, even if it is my mother, will set me back on the path of trying to be what other people want me to be instead of who i really am. i know that's not exactly what you said, but it was your words that pointed the way. i'm lucky to have such a patient and insightful friend.

love, Jack

* * *
dear queen of disks,

i'm sorry this is hard on you. i'm even sorrier that it's about to get a lot harder. i just hope that you love me enough to see how important this is to me. i didn't chose the name to upset you, and i'd pick another one if i could. but i can't. please try and understand that. please try and understand me.

love, your child

* * *
dear prince of wands,

wtf? no really. be straight with me here - what. the. fuck? quit screwing around with me unless you actually want to do just that. it's exhausting, frustrating, and headache inducing. that said, don't lie on top of me when you give me a hug, especially when i'm sitting indian style. it's indecent. and when i say so, and tell you to knock it off, that's not an invitation to be even more obnoxious about it. do it again and i'll either break your face or chew it off. no promises on which it will be. also, don't compare me with your girlfriend. just don't. i don't like her, and it makes my head explode. thanks.

sincerely, Jack

i can't do this anymore.

it's not because i'm in a hurry.
it's not because i'm stubborn.
it's not because i'm blocked.
it's not because i'm unwilling to put in the work.
it's not because i can't or won't re-imagine and change things.
it's not because i backpedal or flee when the going gets tough.
it's because i'm miserable.

i haven't been sleeping.
every time i eat my stomach turns sour.
i spend all my time trying not to think about it,
and when my distractions falter i break down.

this used to be my passion, my greatest accomplishment.
it was the answer to a question i didn't realize i asked.
it used to lift me up. it filled in the empty spots, made me whole.
when i thought i lost everything it gave me new focus and hope.
now it's dragging me down. tearing me open. killing me.

and i wish to god i could live without ever lifting a pen again.
i'd burn it all. tear it to pieces. shred it apart and bury it.
every last story, chapter, paragraph, sentence, word, syllable.
perhaps that was what the universe was trying to tell me
when every pen in my bag, some quite sentimental, vanished without a trace.
pack it in.
give up.
cease.
desist.
halt.
stop.
quit.

it was a hit in the gut. i knew she existed. i knew she would be there. but i wasn't ready for it. i was weak, tired, and emotionally drained. i thought i was over it. but i couldn't handle it. not today. maybe not ever. i couldn't handle meeting his girlfriend. playing his games.

watching them hold hands next to the apples, fingers laced together unconsciously. the way they talked, touched. the fact that i knew her before we were introduced - a half remembered classmate in a class i resented. i wanted to backhand her in the checkout lane. i've never been jealous like that in my whole life. never. but watching them together, all while my ex stood a few feet away, out of reach. it was too painful. it welled up in me until i thought i would vomit up bile. so i left. i made an excuse and i left. but before i did he pulled me close in an embrace. held me tight. ran his hands up and down my back and said he missed me. kissed my cheek, a lingering kiss where his slightly scratchy cheek rubbed against mine. he gave me that parting kiss and i bolted.

i cried the whole way home. once i started i couldn't stop. i cried so hard i couldn't see the road, just blurry headlights and wavering double yellows. i cried so hard i really did spit up bile. i cried so hard i thought i would shake apart. i cried like the world had fallen apart. and it had. at least a part of it. and when i got home the house was empty and i thought i would cry until i died. so i called the only person i thought might understand. she was ill. i felt bad that she was ill and i hadn't known. i felt even worse that i needed to lean on her, just for a few hours, until i could glue myself back together. but she understood. and she insisted i let her. so i did. i went back out, turned up on her doorstep, and sat by her, crumbling. and she held me together. and i am so grateful. even empty and raw as i am, i'm grateful. because thank god, thank god, i have a friend who can look me in the eye and tell me that days like this would make her cry too.