Tuesday, August 4, 2015

Wild, the Movie

July 30th, 2015

Dear Levi,

This letter is for you, for me. I watched Wild tonight starring Reece Witherspoon. At first I thought I was watching the hurt and resilience of my own life. Then at some point, I realized I was watching you, too. That broken childhood, that grief for someone gone you loved most, the tough walls and fortitude to survive and become something in this wild, unpredictable thing called life.

I'm so proud of you. I love you, still. I hurt for you, still. I'm in awe of you, still. I want you to let down those walls if there is anything left of that Levi who needed me. That one curled up in a fetal position in the car after a fender bender off North May; the Levi who talked to me late a night with tears pooling out his shiny, incredibly vulnerable eyes. That... that is what I cherished.

Everyone else is fun and warm and sturdy maybe.. but just, empty human shells so shallow inside.

You were fathomless.

Like a great sea or lake. I could spend my lifetime trying to drink in your soul, the clear deep depths.

But could there be nothing left? Nothing left but this hardened former Bible college student surrounded by strange friends, a wandering Marine in far away places. Indifferent. What if that's all that is left?

Somehow, in reaching an understand of who you were to me, I lost who I am to myself. How do I reconcile the past years of bliss with the years of pain? Which one will ultimately outweigh the other in the story of my life? How do I grip the grinding present? How do I dare possibly hope for a future, and what could it even possibly hold?

Sometimes I think I have got it all planned out, figured out. Leaving Oklahoma. Ukraine. Pre-med, in Florida. Med school in Seattle. Navy. Doctor. Calculated posts on Instagram and Facebook, sleeping with my phone curled to my chest and waking up violently in the night to check it. Please, please still be friends.
But in those disoriented moments, or when my car is broke down in the middle of Oklahoma noonday heat without water, when I'm watching Cheryl Strayed grieve the loss of her mother and face the meaninglessness of her existence, you liking every since post Pear puts up just as soon as you get your phone back... not knowing what to say. Not knowing what to post. Not knowing if its too much or not enough. Feeling confused, frightened, angry and frustrated. Realizing I can never write GiGi again and that there is no one truly left who knows you, truly, who would want to help me, truly.

Yes, in these moments, I know that a part of me deep inside is still horribly broken, irrevocably splintered. Our breakup was my fault but the years of calculated coldness was yours, destroying me.

Sometimes, like tonight, I want so badly to give up.

Who am I?

Do I mean anything to anyone? The way you said I meant to you once? Will I ever, ever matter again? Will ever even believe that? Can I keep trying and waking up and smiling... and curling up crying in my car at twilight by the lake and feeling so utterly broken inside? Will there never, ever, ever be a day, ever, that you would tackle the world... and fix all this?

Or is this all there is ever going to be.... The brokenness, the looking back. The bravery, looking forward. But still empty. Always, broken.

I hope you are enjoying the warm shores of Florida at midnight, the moonlight on your window like it is on mine.

And I hope you think of me.

Your star,
Rigel

No comments:

Post a Comment