Ever do something and immediately regret it? Well, guess what just happened. Yesterday at work, I had to chance to re-read my inspiration for my new body of work "Other People’s Love Letters: 150 Letters You Were Never Meant to See" by Bill Shapiro. Questioning the aspect of what happens when ones priviate thoughts become public. A chance to immerse yourself into other peoples lives. Not just their lives, but their very intimate thoughts and feelings. I have always thought that the hand written word was a gesture of unremarkable intimacy and romance. Re-reading these letters gave me a chance to relive my past relationships and the way they sparked through letter writing. I was deeply moved by all of the letters, yet again. Then I came across this one that I do not recall reading. Or, I read it but it did not stick until now because I was unable to relate to it.
It was a letter written five years after they met. This man, who was taken at the time, decided to write to this woman, who was not the one he was taken with. I do not know if I am going to be able to do this letter any justice, but the fact of the matter is that out of the blue, he decided that he was to write this woman, whom he had (or so it seemed) not spoken to in five years. He decided to put it all out there and tell her that even though he was with someone else, there was a spark between them and he knew at that moment that she was worth more of his time than the woman he was with. Yes, this seems sad for the other woman, but in time, they both went their seperate ways, but the thing that bothered him most was the fact that there was this girl who he knew almost nothing about, but five years later was still thinking about.
She wrote back. It so happened that she was single and through a mutual friend, their secret of each others attraction to one another was kept. All this time, they were feeling the same way about each other, but never said anything until now. Who knows where they are now...maybe they have had multiple children and are happily married on the countryside of some villa. What I do know and what the story did for me, was let me face another truth of mine.
So, what did I do, but what I do best. I pulled out my pen and paper and I wrote a letter. A letter in which I will not discuss details, but it recalls a moment in my life in which I have always questioned. I wrote it as concisely as I could but I feel as though I may have romantisized it a bit. I tend to make more of a sitiuation than it is called for, but I guess that is what most girls do anyways. After writing the letter, I looked for the address. I actually found it, but silly me, I e-mailed the person to make sure it was the right address and then immediately regreted doing so. With that simple action, I made it more real than what I wanted it to be. This caused me to think about what I actually did.
Silly me, I wrote a letter to a person who probably does not even remember the event in which I wrote about. All based on what? A silly letter that I read from a book about two other people in which it may or may not have worked out? Then, I realized how crazy it all sounded. Should I countinue to hope that this person disregards my question of an actual address so that I do not have to send it? What if this person does send it back saying yes...this is my address? Must I still send it? I should not have written it in the first place...or if I did, I should not have put it in an envelope, sealed it and put a stamp on it. What am I thinking? These types of things do not happen in real life, not to me at least.
I feel sick to my stomach. How can something like this have such an impact on my life and why must I think of it so often? I feel crazy. Please make it stop.
stay tuned, you know I never stay in one place for long.