I Forgive You

June 11, 2010
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Upon reading your past assignments I realize that at some point you sat in this same chair; typed with this same keyboard; rested your arms upon the caramelized wooden desk. I feel like I’m with you again. Suddenly I’m infinitely more sad, more lethargic, and morose- overall. Tears are falling from my chin to my arms at this moment. I realize that I was in a twisted state of consciousness when I was in-patient with you. I’d resigned myself to the concept of you viewing me as beautiful. I was Dulcinea del Toboso and you were Don Quixote. I’m now able to see beyond that altered state and realize that i[‘m not beautiful. At all. And, now all the memories inundate my mind quickly becoming cohesive scenes in my psyche. I remember being next door to you. Every night I slept facing the wall knowing you were on the other side wallowing in misery. The night you came out of your room red faced and distressed. I longed to help you, and to make you feel at ease. I remember you slumped over in your chair non-responsive, almost dead, as the teacher tried to coax you into working, with the punishment of returning to the unit, which is of course where we all wanted to be anyways. I remember lounging in the horrid green chairs permeated with all sorts of human byproducts; you directly next to me trying to sleep. We played connect four, chess. I loved you. Love; a big word for such a young person, but I know that love was what I felt towards you, because even now, months after I was separated from you, I cry upon thinking your name. I would kill myself if it made room for you to live happily. I’m planning on killing myself anyways. Sorry for ever burdening you with the knowledge of my affection. I know the last thing you wanted was a fat, stupid, ugly groupie who so desperately clung to every word you uttered as if it was her own personal Bible. I don’t know how you’re doing, I don’t know where you are, but I am immensely sure that I’ll never see you again. Because that’s how life works out. If you are reading this, I’m probably rotting six feet below the ground right now. I just want to leave you with the knowledge that I love you, even in death. I know that you marry a seraph in disguise, a woman worth your being and intelligence. Keep on keepin’ on Jonathan.

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