Dear Jude,

I've tried to fight it, but your blue eyes finally got to me. Well, not finally, because I've loved you since 1997 when I saw Music From Another Room and Gattaca. I finally moved on in 2000 when your marriage seemed to have no end in sight. You were having babies left and right, and you were across an ocean, and I was stuck in Northern Californian town where people grow their own sheep for food. I convinced myself that your marriage would never waver, and that even if it did, you'd never date someone as young as me. What's a girl to do? She marries a Michigander, that's what she does. But he's pretty great, that Michigander of mine.

After three years of marriage, my marriage, not yours, I hear that you and Sadie Frost finally kicked the bucket. I'm not so surprised, ya know. I was watching Dracula the other night on Showtime, and Sadie looks like a whore, and she's a bad actress. I still don't get the whole Lucy on Mina action at the beginning, that wasn't in Bram Stoker's version, why should it be in Francis Ford Coppola's? But that's beside the point. It's good you finally came to your senses. But what's more is that you're engaged to a girl who's a year younger than me! I feel so conflicted... if I had only held out a few more years, we may have had a chance. But as it stands, I'm pretty content with my Michigander. So it's alright. I learned long ago to never trust a man with blue eyes. And your blue eyes, my friend, are enchanting. A little too enchanting. Bewitching. And I've never been bewitched before.

But to ya the truth, Jude, I am lonely. But you're used to that by now. I never do write to you with good news.

I was fired from my job about a month ago. I guess that should give me even more peace of mind, really, because they said I wasn't pretty enough to be at the front desk. And if I wasn't pretty enough to be a receptionist for a production company that only dealt in commercials, then I definitely wouldn't have been pretty enough for you, even if I loved you before everyone else. I've got crooked teeth and crooked eyebrows and crooked ears. I heard that scientists have calculated attractiveness down to a single formula of symmetry. By those standards, I never would have stood a chance.

You know, my family always asks me how I'm doing, if I still think about it, does it still depress me, am I looking for a job, and how I should do temp work in the meantime. I like to smile and nod at their advice, but it makes me die a little bit more inside. Sometimes I really hate questions. That's why our friendship is so special, Jude. You never ask me any questions. You let me be.

I'm lonely. But I said that already. I don't get out of the house much. I don't have anywhere to go, and even if I did, I don't have transportation. You see, my Michigander takes the car to work since I no longer have a job in which to drive. If I had somewhere to go, I don't think I'd mind walking. But the problem is I have nowhere to go which would require my walking. So I work out instead. I'm getting pretty strong now. I can do 25 pushups, the real kind, not the girly kind.

I sit at home all day. I sit in the dark, usually. It saves electricity. I open the windows, but the apartment is still dark since the sun doesn't shine in our windows. I've been trying to write lately, but not a whole lot is happening. I'm tired all the time, too. But I can't sleep. Remember when I used to be an insomniac? And then I got addicted to sleeping pills. I took them at first because the noise in the ghetto used to keep me up at night, and I needed sleep so I could go to class. Then I kept taking them when I was working 50 hours a week, so I could stay on a normal sleep schedule. I stopped taking them about a month ago. But I have the craving to take them every day. It's hard. I think I was addicted to sleep. I could spend 8 hours of my day sleeping, which meant I got a reprieve from myself. Now, I usually only sleep 2, 4 or 6 hours (only evens, never odds), and I have to endure my own company a whole lot more. I'm finding that I don't like myself. So I do Tai Chi Chih. It calms me down and centers me, but it doesn't make me like myself anymore.

Remember when I decided to go to grad school this year, Jude? I'm not sure what's going on with that. I applied to five schools. So far, Emerson and USC sent me rejection letters. I kept the letters. I think I'm going to start keeping my rejection letters, because I'm going to start sending manuscripts to publishers and magazines and journals. I want to be cool, like the writers you hear about wallpapering their bedrooms with their rejection slips. Maybe if I can learn to handle everyone else's rejection of me, then I'll be able to handle my own self-rejection a little better.

I specifically avoided seeing any of your movies last year. Except The Series of Unfortunate Events. That way I didn't have to be haunted by your blue eyes, and be reminded of how I once loved you, and how now you love someone else. I never told you this, but I had your e-mail address once. Your actual e-mail address. Before The Talented Mr. Ripley, before eXistenZ, and even before The Wisdom of Crocodiles... I found Natural Nylon's website and there you and Ewan and Jonny and Sadie, and your e-mail addresses. I wrote you so many letters. But not a single one of them has been good enough to send.


Sincerely,

S

( 2comments )

at March 16, 2005 5:24 AM  Power_Overwhelming said...

Buck up kiddo. And if you have nothing better to do, drop me a line anytime. I'm probably just playing World of Warcraft since I don't have much of a life either. We can cheer each other up.

 

at March 20, 2005 12:56 AM  Anonymous said...

I'm sorry I have to leave this anonymously, but I have a man crush on Jude Law.

That is all for now.