Deadman’s Switch

Dearest Rachel –

Another day, another letter that I’m compelled to write to you that I can’t publish. There are so many things that I want to tell you about that I don’t feel comfortable sharing with the world at large; not yet, and likely not ever. The fact of the matter remains that, while you won’t see these letters (and I know this deep town, no matter how much I wish it were otherwise), there is the wider world that can and may, so I have to watch my step about what I say, especially when things involve other people (and really, what is there about my life – or anyone’s in general – that doesn’t involve other people? No man is an island, after all). At the same time, there’s a sort of necessity for me to write these thoughts and feelings down as they come to me. They’re not meant for public consumption; but I need to remember what this particular moment felt like once I’m long past it – and I know I’ll get past it, even though at the moment, it doesn’t feel like it.

That’s especially true in a situation like this, where I’ve come to something of a ‘eureka’ moment. It’s not a particularly new or sudden one, to be sure, but it is one that has slowly been coming together, as much as I’ve not wanted to see or acknowledge it. At this point, however, it’s impossible to deny its existence or veracity. The problem is, I don’t feel like I can spell things out in more detail than this here.

Which is a shame, as it’s been something of a raison d’etre for me for months now, if not several years. I’ve had this source of inspiration, this muse, if you will, that I have to admit to myself is nothing more than a construct in my head. It’s not real, no matter how much I might wish otherwise; wishing does not make a thing real. On the contrary, a wish is a tacit acknowledgement that reality is not how the wisher would want things to truly be. It’s something of a coping mechanism rather than something to aim for, and I don’t mind telling you how painful it is to have to come to terms with that fact.

Basically, I’ve been putting myself through things in order to make myself more appealing to someone else. I’ve been calling her “Megumi” all this time, because I didn’t want to claim that she exists, or that I knew her. However, all this time, I’ve also been nursing hope that she was, in fact, someone I knew, because (as with us) I thought it would be best to cultivate a romantic relationship out of a friendship, and nurture it into something more. As I said, I won’t go into details, but it’s become clear to me that I’ve grossly misinterpreted things; this attempt to turn someone into “Megumi” is no more possible than me being able to turn these pictures of you real.

It turns out, I can’t shoehorn reality – such as it currently is, anyway – into this mythical ideal that I’ve created that I’d like to be a part of. Any effort to induce this change from friend to something more is fruitless, and pointless, and I need to accept that fact.

The problem is, to give up on this idea would naturally lead to me giving up on so many things that I don’t enjoy, but that I’m being universally told are doing me good. But it’s not as if I’ve been doing any of this for myself – well, at least not directly. The idea has always been that these disciplines would ultimately lead to this ideal situation I’ve been imagining between myself and this other person; any improvements made to myself have been more to attract her, rather than specifically doing myself any good. The fact that they do has been completely incidental – apart from the fact that, were my efforts to have panned out, it would lead to what I’d hoped for all along, and in that sense, I guess you could say, it’s been for me. But by accepting that it’s not going to happen, the logical response is, why continue to bother? If I can’t win her heart – and I know I can’t – why go through all the trouble?

It’s at this point that I have to return to the concept of “Megumi” as a concept. While I’ve been telling you that I’ve been looking for her (although the whole online dating angle was a complete washout, aside from the stories it generated), I’ve been secretly thinking I knew who she was all along, protestations to the contrary notwithstanding. Now that I have to accept that I don’t know who she is – or, God help me, if she is – I have to continue putting myself through these things under the assumption that she does exist, and I just have yet to meet her (or again, try to make friends, and more, with someone I already know, and just haven’t thought of that way). It’s a personalized version of Plato’s “Noble Lie”; I may be lying to myself about her existence, but I have to maintain the fiction in order to continue to force myself to improve.

And that’s all I feel like I can say on the subject at this point, honey. I’ve drafted a letter going into more detail as to how I’d come to this conclusion but, like so many others I’ve started, it will never see the light of day.

There are times when I wish this site had some sort of deadman’s switch, where, once all the principals involved are on your side of the veil, these unpublished drafts can be released to the wider public. There might be something to what I have to say that, while not necessarily of edification to the reader as such (since anything that I might have learned from the experience might only be applicable for the specific situation I’m in), might yet prove… entertaining? At the very least, they would provide a certain added insight into my life and thought processes, much as the notes that you left behind have taught (and reminded) me that much more about you.

That again, who would be interested in any of that? Sure, I’m learning from your old notes, but I loved you; of course I would want to learn more about you, no matter how painful it is to read, now that you’re no longer here to talk with directly. By putting these letters out into the ether, it’s possible that someone might be curious, but that’s about as likely as me finding “Megumi” at this point – and I think you can tell what my opinion is of those odds right now.

For now, I guess all I can ask for is for you to keep an eye on me, honey, and wish me luck. Clearly, I’m going to need it, and then some.