Pinky Promises and Culver's

Dear Katie

Here are some secrets. When I was seven I killed a June bug because I thought it was ugly and I immediately started to cry, filled with guilt and regret. I have a fear of swimming tests and mold. I got caught reading gay smut on the family laptop in middle school and it is still the most embarrassing moment of my life. I tell a lot of fibs. Usually when someone asks if I know something that they know about and that I think I should know about but I don’t. Like a popular band or a well known book or something that happened in the news last week because I’m insecure about the things I don't know. I don’t know very much about history or religion but you do, and I think that you’re one of the smartest people I know. I never fib with you because you don’t make me feel small for not knowing. 

Here's a big one: I thought that I would never feel whole again after the heartbreak but I do because I had you. And I know that sometimes you get scared about people needing you, but you are the most wonderful friend I didn’t know I deserved. You are the feeling of hugging the warm laundry out of the dryer. You are the dew that hangs in the air and reminds us of the coast. You are a treasure trove of memories of the greatest years of my life.

Here’s another big one: I am guilty and ashamed of the ways love blinded me and the times I wasn’t there for you because of it. When I wasn’t fully present for you because I was pouring myself into someone else and calling it purpose. Somehow you don’t hold it against me. I talk about not living a life motivated by fear but I am also fucking stubborn. I’m scared to be around the world without you. I’m scared of being replaced. I’m scared of my next rock bottom and that you might not be next to me, devolving in a ten person home only suitable for four. I’m scared to clean the hair out of the shower drain. I’m scared I’ll never learn to cook chicken properly because I just prefer when you do it. I’m scared about not knowing what this next chapter looks like, and that I can’t fib my way out of it because you know me too well. 

But I know that we are going to be just fine. Trust that every day I am saving up stories to tell you about over the phone later. Trust that we will have our PG-rated Thelma and Louise life on a farm somewhere soon. Trust that everyone probably thinks I’m asking you to get engaged at the end of this but I am not (your loss). Trust that I will see you soon, even though we don’t know what soon means just yet. 

Love you,

Lyd

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