July 15th, 2015

Dear Levi,

Oklahoma is in its hottest four weeks of summer, middle of July, a whole month since graduation. It's crazy, staring through the hazy heat wave across the horizon that just a few weeks ago our paths were crossing in rainy, blissful California. That just before that, my mailbox was home to your handwritten letters.

In the days that followed June 12th and your warm banter, silence settled between us like an unspoken reminder of the past. You didn't even ask "how are you" or say "hey it meant a lot you came" when I was there in front of you. And as the days crept by and you sashayed up the west coast and caught up with your social circle... the only exile of OKC became excruciatingly real again.

You didn't send me a friend request, like I was half dreaming of. But after almost three years, that dream was knowingly delusional. Rather... you went to your fellow Marine's wedding and blocked me that night, 2am, sending me a blank FB message and then cutting me off like old times.... You dug me out of your followers on Instagram and blocked me there, too, even changing your privacy settings.

The disappointment of the silent days turned to disbelief in this new wave of furious action. That kick in the gut has been veyr, very, very hard to deal with gracefully. Pain, hurt, humiliation and anger and bitterness struggle every day. And somehow I collapse on my bed at night and cry out to God to forgive you, for healing, for me to forgive you, for healing, for you to want me again.... For my Levi, wherever he went all those years ago.

I was just as dumbfounded when you unblocked me a few days later... but not surprised that you still didn't say a words, add me or text me or acknowledge I exist. No, you just wanted a Bible and Cliff bars and someone to show you attention... when you don't. It's blindly painful. It took me forever to get here... realizing as much as Ana was a rebound from me, I was just a rebound from Nikki.

And that's all I was to you, when you were the world to me.

Another blistering hot day. In two weeks, you'll be off to balmy Florida. I know you won't write me, but I still run to my mailbox every day.... just because. If I can get through 10 weeks, I'll be moving to the Southwest USA and forever leaving OKC behind me... all the mistakes and promises and betrayal and loneliness... and then it'll be a jetplane and I'll be in Ukraine. Finally.

Every dy since the warm, this is where I belonged. Far away where you can't pretend to understand. On my own turf. In my beautiful bedroom with white velvet Chester and the chandeliers and the glittering walls and velvety curtains.. home in a different culture, language, and continent. With my turtles and my beautiful buildings. Even if you could pretend to understand, you have no claim here whatsoever.

And that's why I need to go home so badly.

I need to be free of always feeling second-place, your serf, your doormat.

Your star,
Rigel