Considering, then, such a choice, I am ready to make mine.

Adrienne Leigh–

Tonight, I read your latest entry with hope, and the bits of ominous foreshadowing that you offered in the final stanzas of our chat. It didn’t take longer than that which it takes to recite the first line to know just where you were headed; or, perhaps, where you are headed. Whether it surprises you or not, I’ve seen those same words before. Granted not in that form, but certainly in such function.

Adrienne… I don’t know for certain that your post’s reference was to any matter even pertaining to me. But I’ve got a very strong idea that it may well be. If I am indeed all wet, and your post pertains to matters larger and more significant than me, then please feel no compulsion to read any further. If, however, I am indeed correct, I ask that you hear me out, and maybe consider what ideas I contend.

The truth is this Adrienne: I’ve never had a girl be anything other than confused by my actions, my attraction, and me. You might be surprised to learn how frequently it has occurred that I beg a friend to understand that feeling that way really is okay.

Because it is.

Of paramount importance to me, and incorporated rather intrinsically into the general philosophies that govern my lifestyle, is the simple concept of happiness. If you’re not happy, something is wrong. “If it doesn’t feel right, you’re probably not feeling the right thing.” The idea seems to be common sense. Comically, though, the reality of such a common sense is one that is often easy to overlook.

With that in mind, then, I feel nothing but direct responsibility for your bewildered state of mind. I feel at fault for allowing the questions both life and legitimacy. I feel at fault for potentially fouling up what were once your hopes, and your dreams, and your desires. If what happened that Friday morning had never happened, then I could imagine that we’d continue simply as friends, without those nagging questions. Alas, it is what it is, and the situation has indeed been so interestingly altered yet again. For your current disposition, I apologize.

* * *

“i hate it.”

“fuckin shit.”

“…madness.”

* * *

These aren’t statements that typify happiness. Even more so devastating is the knowledge that as I type these words, you lie, alone, with heavy tears where eyes should shine. And as I sit in the fluorescent shadow of my words, I, too, find no coherent release of thought short of my own tears. I find this behavior almost curious.

You’ve not offered specific details, but I have assembled enough conjecture and belief to know that, for whichever of the many and varied reasons you’ve been given to react in tears, you have done it all too frequently. You have likely cried too many nights into the past, and too many days into memory. And all of this for what? I feel almost redundant in, again, reminding you of why this is. It is that same reason that compels me to, again, forego the first prospect of falling to rest on the same day that I awoke, in exchange for writing this letter.

Care.

It really is just that simple.

You have, and I want to.

I choose to.

To again cite my most favorite piece of short literature, I suggest for another time that choice becomes the figurative “bottom line” to which each of our lives is bound. When all layers of our facades are destroyed, and when we finally realize our unprotected, uncovered humanness, it is my fervently post-modern belief that choice is among the very few things left. Continuing then in that vein, please, if you’ve dismissed my words until this point, just understand my basic hope:

* * *

Adrienne Leigh–

I know you’ve hurt (but I know how deeply you’ve loved). I know you’ve cried (but I’ve felt your smile and seen your eyes).

I’m certain that these emotions of mine seem too sudden to be appropriately founded. I sometimes feel the same. But the fact is that I have chosen to know, and to feel and see. After all, to be rather Vonnegut-esqe about the entire situation, it seems that life may indeed be nothing more complicated than a simple series of choices.

Considering, then, such a choice, I am ready to make mine. Historically speaking, I have considered you both a friend and a confidant. For that I am grateful. But now, I step forward onto a limb whose strength I’m uncertain of.

I choose to hope. I choose to care. Most importantly, I choose to trust you.

I’m waiting here, and for the near future, I’m not headed anywhere. It is here that I will stand, wait, and trust. Now, it is your turn to choose. If you decide that at this point in your life you need a strong friend, then, by all means, sign me up. If you decide that you, too, might hope to explore something more, than by all means, count me in. Earlier in this letter, I discussed happiness. Recalling that, I encourage you to discover why it may, at times, be eluding you. The only thing I ask of you is a simple promise. Find out what makes you happy, and promise me that you’ll pursue only that. At this point, I trust you. At this point, I care for you. No matter what you decide, those aren’t things that will soon change. It is your smile, and your heart, and your happiness for which I care; for it is those things that make me sincerely joyful.