I knew when I left you in the airport that I would never see you again. The Great Love story has come to this. When I look over our years of letters I am inclined to think of what a great screenplay it would make. One day I even decided to flip through the archives and write it all out. All my friends told me what a great story it is. Not even you can deny the marketability of us.
But then I realized… I don’t even know where you are. And on top of that, I don’t even know who you are presently pretending to be. Still ministering to Christian youth of the UK? Or hanging out on near the Canal getting drunk and making out with boys? Or worse? I mean, are you still taking drugs on the sly? Still going to church drunk?
I probably sound bitter, and well, yes, I am a little hurt. After all, you were my best friend and I thought that you knew I would always care about you and love you whoever you decided to be. Your life with your family was fiction, but I knew it all and it never fazed me.
Gay. There, one of us can say it. You are gay and I am straight and this really is OK. Sometimes I want to talk to you if only to say that over and over again until you understand that there are people around that love you as you are.
Granted, there could be no romantic end to our story. I can’t imagine selling the idea with the honest results included. If I lied, it wouldn’t be our story. In our story the girl marries a man who loves her and desires her and the boy – well, he just disappears.
I hope you are OK. I hope you have found a way to love yourself as you are; that your family lives by their words and that they are letting you be true to yourself. I have my doubts.
Anyway, I just wanted you to know that I meant the words I said all along. Until the oceans die up and the seas are full of dust.
