you know those dear future husband (or wife) letters?
this is not one of those. i’d rather die, thank you very much.
what this is is… a rambling session into the void. i’m sorry you have to deal with it. if you’re reading this, you’ve probably made the unfortunate mistake of interacting with me. for that i give my sincere apologies. it’s a lot to deal with. i’d avoid it if i could, but i can’t. and so here we are.
this is for anyone (except my caseworker. also my exes. you had your shot.) i could literally not care less who. perhaps you’re a relative, perhaps you’re a friend, perhaps you’re a partner, perhaps you’re nobody. perhaps the “you” will change from person to person with time. perhaps it’s a group of people, a good duo, a kind mentor, a friend, someone i accidentally spilled coffee on at work, and perhaps you’re the wall. i’m not picky. i’m not much of anyone either, if that makes things easier. anyway.
but i do think an introduction is in order. we can withhold the tragic backstory for another long night with no self control and a lot of angst. maybe you have a similar one, maybe you got lucky. wouldn’t be luck, but you know what i mean. uh. i’m rambling. dangit, i do that sometimes. okay.
wow this is going great
i’m jo, uh, i’m *gestures* all of this. what’s this? who knows. also i have this lovely executive dysfunction, anxiety, mild interest in nihilism, and i try to mask the pain of being alive with humor and snarky quips. smart, i know.
what a pathetic thing to say, but there, i said it, i’m lonely.
are you lonely too?
like, even a little bit?
it sucks, i’ll tell you that much. you know the saying “it takes a village to raise a child”? guess what happens when that village doesn’t know that child exists?
*jazz hands* you get meeeeeee!
you know what, i like improv comedy. i guess that might be surprising given everything i just said, but i like the idea of spinning nothing into laughter. kinda morbid if you think about it. which is why i don’t. like lenny bruce was this amazing person with words but man must’ve had a tired time of it with is mind, you know what i mean?
why are you even still listening
i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to be this dark. it just happens.
i’m obsessed with theater and stories and creating, if you wanted to torture me, drop me in my hometown without an explanation, i will happily die for pizza, my favorite color is black, my best friends are all onscreen, as you can imagine that has doomed me to eternal introvertedness, i suffer from some mild form of social anxiety, i despise heteronormativity, equally, i think most romance is horrible, however, that doesn’t erase the fact that i am the biggest investor in romanticism i know despite being all of five feet. i think there’s beauty everywhere, i think there is good in people, i think there is enough love to be shared. i think the world is broken, i think that life is unfair, i think people are cruel, i am terrified of opening up, and there’s too much ugliness to support the “fundamentally good” theory. we’re not good. we’re not all bad. we’re human, and that’s the worst thing to be.
…and also i will happily eat any snack offered and the ones not offered for good measure.
this is why i have no friends. chalk another mark for the mental ward. i’ve been there, they have very kind people. also they have leftover pizza. that’s two big pluses right there.
tell me about yourself.
what drives you? what horrifies you? what keeps you up at night? who’s the first person you saw and said “i want to be like that” even though they weren’t exactly a person to be like? what did you read? where’d you spend your days as a kid? what do you think about love? where do you place your faith? what kind of pizza do you order? what’s your mcdonalds combo? do you like thrift store shopping? how do you see the world?
did you burn your village to feel its warmth, or did you simply walk away too?
forgive me for being forward, i’m just fascinated by the idea of voluntarily giving information to someone, and that someone just… accepting it. wanting to accept it. please take your time, who you are and what you choose to share is beautiful. i mean that.
besides, we have all the time in the world. or not. whichever happens first.
i just… if we do meet, if this elusive idea of a person that chooses to interact with me for no other reason than just doing it is true, i don’t want to spend it talking about the weather, unless you want to stare at the stars and dance in rain and watch thunderstorms and all that goofy stupid stuff they tell you you shouldn’t do. what better thing to do?
if this is true, you should know i suck at small talk. that isn’t to say i despise conversation, it’s to explain that i spark it. i’ve burnt a lot of people that way. i’m sorry. i’m warning you now so you can get out while you still can.
if this is true, i hope you’re okay with randomness. i promise there is method in my madness, i promise i mean well, i promise that i don’t take the implications of a friendship of any sort light, i promise i’ll care, i promise i will screw up so many times, i’ll be mean, i’ll be abstract, and weird, but if you can deal with that, awesome.
if this is true, please be okay with walmart pizza and a movie borrowed from the library. i’m broke and if you stopped long enough to talk to me, you’re probably still paying off college debt. or not even able to pay for college. me neither pal. i love the idea of luxury, but i’m not willing to pay for it. it just doesn’t feel real then, right? because once you pay for it you expect to be happy? and when you get disappointed that’s a you problem. i don’t want to hurt anyone like that. or myself. so i hope you’re okay with sitting on the curb eating drugstore popsicles or breaking into the library to return overdue books before the fee. trust me, i’d flail given richness. i don’t need that. i’m okay with walmart pizza and the free version of spotify.
if this is true, feel free to horrify me with tragic tales from your past. i don’t mind. i can’t promise i’ll heal anything, but i’ll be there to listen. this isn’t sacrificial, it’s selfish, but it’s something. we can swap. or not. whatever goes first. just know that i’ll listen. i’ll talk.
if this is true, prepare to have your snacks stolen. i highly do not recommend leaving them out, especially with a high metabolism some-kind-of-possibly-hypoglycemic child. i’ll pay them back, but that grub is lon gone.
if you have triggers, those suck. let me know. don’t try to keep me safe from them, please say what you’re comfortable and not comfortable with. be honest. i’ll do my best to do the same in return. i’m already gonna hurt you on accident, the least i can do is avoid most of it. locked doors, church halls, curled fists, and silence are my demons, what’re yours?
i have this thing where i can hear music by looking at people. i may or may not give you a playlist based on all the vibes you’ve emanated over the time. i may not be sorry. i just hope you like it. i hope you like music, it’s the one language i’m fluent in.
if i trust you enough, i’ll probably hug you. if i trust you too much, i’ll usually slip up and sing a song i wrote in the night. if you forget me, at least keep the songs.
if you need to gain anything from this chaos… then take the fact that i am not a ball of sunshine and laughter. and i’m not broken shares of angst and sadness. and i’m not wit and genius, i’m not comedy and humor, i’m not angry, i’m not war, i’m not passive, i’m not shy and anxious, i’m all of those things at the same time and whichever one manifests at the time is the one that covers everything else. so if you see me happy and then sad, don’t tell me “what happened to you” because that is me, dude. i can assure you i understand the complexity of the individual soul to do the same for you. i can say that for certain, whoever you are, you’re intricate and wild and you have a light nobody else can match. don’t ask me how i know.
what am i saying?
i care. if there is maybe any reason to even talk to me, it’s probably that. if you show any inkling of seeing beyond the surface, i’ll jump in feet first and insist on being there. if you need an ear, i’ll come close to cutting mine off so you can have them all the time. it’s probably one of my biggest weaknesses. given the choice between myself and someone i love, even if the stakes are personal desire and casual interest, i’ll always pick the someone. it’s stupid. it’s why i can’t trust people. but it’s there. usually though, that’s only extended to the closest of friends, and since i don’t have a lot of those to begin with, it hasn’t been too much of a liability. yet. the worst thing you could do is insist that i shouldn’t have to deal with you.
besides murdering, obviously don’t do that.
and that’s why this is not a dear husband (or wife) letter, because i wish i could say this to everyone that’s had the misfortune of coming across me, but i know that not everyone wants it. that’s why they leave.
so this is to anyone. just friends. just siblings. just classmates. just a teacher. just any stupid connection you could think of. it’s not *just* a person. it’s not *just* a soul. i’ve poured mine out already, i’ll try to be careful with yours.
i’ve considered the necessity of self love and how that plays out into my bold demands, and it checks out. i’m… i’m okay with myself. i like me. that’s not why i’m saying this. but i think the need to actively love and care for other people beyond myself is. maybe i’ll get around to fixing myself too. i just hope, at the very least, you’re only mildly worried.
if we part ways and i don’t see you again, if something happens, then i hope you know i wish you well. and i wish i could’ve stuck around longer. and maybe there will be other people, but it… wasn’t nothing.
would you look at that, you don’t even exist and yet the thought of saying all this to you and doing all this and being has already made me a little less lonely. thanks, i guess. you touched my life and you’re not real. either i’m real pathetic or real insightful or both.
but whoever you are, anyone out there, i’d love to talk.
~and what a privilege it is to love, jo~