Toastie ‘97

Writing you this is my last resort now. I have no answer to the hell I’ve mired myself in yet again. As usual, I feel lousy giving you this, but this is the only action I could ultimately think of to take right now that would at all alleviate the unthinkable misery I feel right now.

I wanted to freeze sitting inside the window. I wanted to look down and see the jagged cement steps below. I wanted to imagine my head crashing into that ground. I saw images of myself falling through the air and smashing into the pavement. But I don’t really want to die, or else I’d have killed myself tonight or a long time ago. I just want to put myself out of my misery.

No point is not being completely honest with you. I don’t feel like I’m making you very comfortable with the half-truths I say now. Of course I’m always thinking about how I feel about you when I’m around you. And I’m thinking about that when I’m not. I’m always thinking about that. What is that? Love? How could it be? Do I know what love is? I don’t know. How can I know that there’s no one out there for me here at Duke? I don’t know. How can I feel the way I feel? I don’t know. Do you understand how I feel? Do you understand that I cannot imagine any guy doing for you what I’ve done and am willing to do? Do you understand that I cannot imagine anyone loving and respecting you as much as I do? Do you understand that I understand that my feelings are too extreme and that what I feel probably borders on or is worshipping you or obsessing about you? I understand that you will never feel about me the same way that I feel about you. I know that. In that letter you wrote me a few weeks ago, you said that you weren’t looking for a boyfriend, but you could always change your mind. Well, I know that you’re never going to change your mind because of me, because I’ve been so completely open and crazed and sick and depressed that you’d never want to go out with me. Another thing is that I can’t ever see “going out” (I never understood what that meant) with someone just for the sake of going out, meaning I wouldn’t want a girlfriend that I didn’t think I could be happy with for a long period of time. Therefore, I will never have a girlfriend because I’ll always care for her too deeply initially to simply befriend her without letting her know how screwed up I am.

You don’t owe me any reponse or anything else. To expect anything from you is completely unfair, yet I can’t say that I desire to stop talking to you. Yet, I’m sure you’ll have no idea what to say to me after reading this.

“This” is not just about you; it’s about everything- my whole life- and whenever I feel completely worthless, it’s because of everything, because I can relate everything that wrong to everything else that’s wrong. You don’t even know the half of my problems. You don’t want to know what my other problems are.

I feel like I’m a time-bomb that keeps resetting itself right before it goes off, because it really has no desire to hurt itself or especially anyone else. But I might go off one day. I don’t want to hurt anyone.

I know I take being nice to the extreme, but I have to, because that’s me. I can be crude and obnoxious at times in the right crowd. But then that means I’m in the wrong crowd.

I know I seem to be looking for someone to do everything with. Then that someone would be a slave to me and that’s not something I want. I need to constantly know that I matter and that I’m cared about. I rarely get that feeling, and I cannot generate that feeling from within myself.

CAPS. Sure, it makes sense that I go to them. But I’m never feeling miserable during their office hours. I honestly feel like I’ll be okay a lot of times. But then my mood will suddenly shift. I’ll be miserable. I’ll feel worthless. I’ll feel like I’m doing you harm by talking to you. I feel like no one cares. Then I come up with some idea of how I can put a genuine smile on your face, think of some way that I know I can make you happy. And so I think I get you something almost everyday. I know that giving you things won’t make me better friends with you or make you care about me any more. But I just feel good doing something special for you because I feel like I’m a disturbance when I just come by for apparently no reason. I feel that way, and I can’t help it. I know that I truly am not always welcome, but you’ll never tell me that. Sometime you probably don’t mind. But I can sense that you’re not always that happy to see me. Maybe you are thinking that I’m thinking about how I feel about you when I’m seeing you. And I now must admit that you’re right. How can I not? Dave, you’re in your friend Susan’s room right now. This isn’t a situation any different than being in Craig’s room or Todd’s room. No, that doesn’t work. I care about you so deeply, Susan, and that obviously can’t be transformed into “I care about you, who are my friend, Susan.” Yes, I consider you my friend, but I can’t change my feelings and just care about you as a friend. I think you can guess that I don’t go out of my way to buy every little thing that will make my friends happy. I do often do things for friends that most people wouldn’t do, my I do more for you, and that’s because you’re more than a friend to me, meaning I care about you more than just a friend. You understand this, I know, but what do you say to me now?

More honesty. Do you know what I want from someone more than anything in the world? I’m not looking for intimacy or even a kiss. I would really just like a long, complete hug with someone. There would not being anything uncomfortable about this embrace. It would signify a deep, mutual caring and understanding. It would not have to signify a boyfriend-girlfriend relationship, but it would be more than just friends. Does this make any sense? Your other guy friends may casually give you a hug or touch you in some other way. I could never do that, because I’d always feel like I’d be making you uncomfortable because you’d be conscience of my feelings. My whole point is that I have this unrelenting belief that a simple embrace can make all of my pain disappear. But I understand that you cannot give such an embrace, because that would mean that you can deal with everything I’ve just said and everything that I feel, and I see no way how you can be comfortable with anything I’ve said.

It’s almost 12:30. I’ve killed some time. I’ve warmed up a little bit. I’ve calmed down a little. A little while ago, my feet were dangling outside the window. I don’t feel as lousy anymore, but that’s only because I released all of my worthless feelings onto you once again.

My meaningless apology comes now. I’m sorry. Really. With all of my heart, I’m sorry. Pointless, I know, to say all this.

I just thought of a whole new area to write about. I’ve got to tell you that I was being completely serious the other night when I told you that I had never seen someone so talented before. I meant up close, live, right in front of me. Maybe what I think about your talent is distorted because of how I feel for you, but I truly believe that your abilities are exceptionally special. I had never experienced anything so beautiful before than listening to you play the piano. I swear this, although I don’t know if this is a good or a bad thing for you to know.

More honesty. I feel tears in my eyes right now. They don’t come out for some reason, but they’re there. I’m so scared to lose you, but I know that I might. There’s only so much you can deal with as far as I’m concerned, and I understand this. Not telling you everything I’ve told you here would’ve only caused me to avoid you again and perhaps say something at some time that wouldn’t be good to hear. Of course, I might have to avoid you anyway. I’ll wish I know what you’re thinking, but I understand that you may not know what to say.

And I actually don’t think I have anything else to say now. I’m done. If you can respond in any way to me, please do it as soon as possible. If you can’t respond, I understand. My foremost concern right now is that I haven’t upset you too much. I suppose that for this to have been accomplished, you can’t care about me too much, which part of me wishes for, because I don’t necessarily think I’m worth caring about. Okay, I think I’ve gone on long enough. I’m sorry again.