(NOTE: Written about an experience in the past, does NOT reflect the present.)
I wrote a letter to Girl. It was a very nice letter. Maybe too nice. Possibly disgustingly nice. A letter in which I heaped a bunch of blame on my own head, piled her with compliments, then insisted she continue being exactly as she was even though I kind of wanted her to go away. I may have written a few of these, actually.
I spent a lot of time being angry at Girlfriend, and some time being mad at Girl, but on a much smaller level. Anger at Girl would come and go, rise and fall, and it was not until much later, when I felt I could see her more clearly, that I became pissed. And that was mostly because I felt stupid. So very stupid. However, I think there is never reason to regret being kind, and I was generally hella kind. So maybe I didn’t need to feel stupid.
I tried to understand Girl. She seemed like someone with a lot of pain that created a lot of protections. I suspected these protections had been there since she was a child, and I wished I had been there to love her as a child, to wrap my arms around her, to keep her safe, to look into her eyes and say “You are enough.” But maybe that’s a dumb idea and she did not need any of these things. Maybe her life was just fine the way it was. While I have many theories about Girl, I do not know if they are accurate or true, because how would I know? I’d have to read her therapist’s notes, assuming the therapist is very thorough and has excellent handwriting. But I don’t recall her having a therapist.
There are so many things I could write about Girl. The things she said, the things she did, my perception of her part in all of this, my perception of her general existence and choices. In fact, I have written many things in private, some more raw than others, some more livid than others, some with a lot of name-calling, but I realize this story is about Girlfriend and I, and Girl is just a character in it. Even though she was the catalyst and force, this series is not about her. It took me a while to figure that out.
Though I do wonder sometimes:
Dear Girl,
Was anything you said ever true?
Love,
Angela
