Open letter to Supernova.

Dear Supernova,

I remember wiping my hands dry from washing your dishes as you looked down at your kitchen tiles and told me, “You’ll leave someday. Everyone does.” It was said with such hopelessness in stark contrast to how definitively you would speak of us. You’d tell me we merged souls and that you wanted my friendship for life. In our tired evenings with a list of chores and adulting at hand, you’d tell me to put it all away and come live a life of sandy beaches with you in Fiji. You’d tell me about how excited you were to take me across the world to honor the novel patience and friendship I’d shown you. It saddens me how far our friendship has fallen since those days.

I’m writing this letter to reclaim space for myself within my own mind, body, and soul. For me, connecting with myself means being kind. Sometimes I direct that kindness toward others instead of myself. Showing myself the same kindness I’ve shown you means honoring my past, harvesting my present, and watering my future. You’re going to hear me be both stern and reminiscent in this letter. I have my hopes for what you’ll do with these words, but you have your own journey in life; do as you please, but you should know I don’t write these letters for just anyone. If my words come through as intended given the circumstances, you’ll be the same mix of sad and hopeful that I am as I write, and this letter will be the same mix of bittersweet and inevitable that you always knew our friendship would be. As you read this letter, know that I enjoyed our time together and have no regrets about us. I’m going to sound disappointed, then angry, and finally grateful. 

I wished you’d waited until you were ready to take responsibility before reaching out to me again. Your message spent analyzing me and insinuating that I’ve been stewing on things for months out of my own choice to find significance where it doesn’t exist is deeply insulting given everything we’ve been through together, and it displays to me that you’re not ready to embrace the truth of what happened a year ago. It doesn’t matter how much you preface it with being curious about my thoughts or values and that you mean no disrespect. The implications absolve you of all accountability, and that kind of one-sided companionship has no place in my life.

There reaches a point where things stop being platonic, no matter how much you keep calling it that. I took you seriously and pulled back my affections after you sent me that first message stating it’s not a good time to date. You reopened that door when you held my hand and told me you’d return my affections someday, when you called me your lover, your partner, and your dog’s stepdad, and when you returned my kisses. You did and said countless things that convey one thing: I was more than a friend to you. Whether you felt that way on the inside doesn’t change what happened on the outside. You knew you were in way too deep and that’s why you needed to pull back so harshly to my face the night before my trip to England. When I called you out on everything you did, you had no answer for me except advising me not to read into what you say. 

My self-esteem and self-image were distorted for months after our talk, and it’s not because I “let things affect me” but because I actually went through something awful and worth feeling awful over. I couldn’t even dream for a month after that night. I was convinced you felt a certain way about me due to your own actions, then you pulled the rug out from under me in April, then you said you liked me back in September, and now you have the gall to suggest I broke my own heart. 

I’ve been so patient with you. You broke my heart and refuse to own up to your half of what led to that night before England. You damaged a trip that was years in the making with lifelong friends. You used my car dishonestly. You took my money and ran. You’ve lied to me so many times and they weren’t even good lies. You have no idea the kind of reflection I had to do to move on from that night. You hurt me to the point of growing up. You don’t get to speak to me as if I’m still the person you changed.

I don’t care that I lost you as a potential lover; I care that I lost you as a friend. I lost someone I’d merged souls with. Every time you’ve sporadically reached out, I’ve always felt it coming. There would be times I had sudden and inexplicable urges to cry only to check my messages and see that you’d reached out in some form. I’d called out sick from work for the first time in months for a mental health day right before you sent me that song. We merged souls to the point of being on the same emotional schedule, and that’s what makes this loss of friendship so painful.

I had so much fun with you. From hitting golf balls into the Redactetd River at three in the morning to carrying some random table through a quiet alleyway, we created so many core memories that I’ll look back on fondly. I’m going to miss dinner with your family, your mom’s questions about the gym, your dad’s grilled asparagus, your dog’s endless energy; I’m going to miss it all. The nights we spent cooking dinner while The Backseat Lovers played on your speakers were some of the best I’ve ever had the unquestionable joy of experiencing in my life. 

I’ve spent much time digging deep and asking myself why I showed you so much grace and patience. I realized that I thought if I could just be a good enough person, I could save you from what Redacted and Redacted did to you, the same way I thought if I could just be a good enough son, I could save my mom from what my brother and father have done to my family. In the end, I’m thankful that you chose a terrible night to have such a brutal talk. I couldn’t heal your trauma during our time together, but you healed mine in the most roundabout way. I hope I’m the last guy the lines became blurred with. I hope my absence calls you to seek out genuine friendships that you’re ready to reciprocate in. I hope I’m the last person in your cycle as you were in mine.

Be honest with people you want to keep around; you’re not good at lying. Hold yourself accountable for your half of things; you know when things aren’t your fault, starting learning when they are. Lean into discomfort and clumsiness; you won’t find the answers to your questions if you run off golfing and partying every time you feel bad. Continue healing from everything that stops you from living the life you want; you’ve been through a lot, and you owe it to yourself not to live a life of escape and suffering.

I won’t be maintaining these random exchanges every few months. I won’t be able to see your response to this; while I hope you read these words and strive to better your life, this message is ultimately for me to take up the space I should’ve before I left to England. I want us to honor this closed chapter by bettering ourselves in separate directions paved by our own healing, values, and aspirations. 

It was bittersweet, but I thought it’d be wonderful if you could return to me on a better path someday. In the emotional fallout and growth that followed our friendship, I applied for a promotion at work and got what I wanted. My position was left vacant and filled by a young lady I now share an office with. Immediately, I knew it was you. As she shadowed me during her first week, I had a distinct feeling that I was spending time with you again. She has your anxiety, your voice, your snicker, your country and British accents, your height, and even your ears. She’s different from you in the same ways, too. Where you’re unabashed, she’s cautious. Where you’re numb, she’s overwhelmed. Where you sought my patience, she praises my boundaries. Most importantly, where you welcome ambiguity, she embraces clarity. We’ve developed an amazing friendship in a short time with nothing left to interpretation: we are friends without mixed feelings about the roles in each other’s lives. She’s in the same emotional space you left me in a year ago, and I’m blessed to give her all the tools I have in moving on to live a happy life. The last thing you and I said in person was, “I’ll see you in the morning”; she and I say that to each other every day. She’s what the cosmos has rewarded me with for pushing through the emotional anguish of parting souls from you. She’s the friendship we should’ve had. 

One day, I’ll return to you as someone else. He’ll have a different name and face, but you’ll feel and know that it’s me. Just as I loved all sides of you, he may want to be your cherished friend, or he may want to be your devoted lover. You’ll have another chance at an honest, caring, nurturing, patient, and timeless merging of souls. When you do, I hope you’ll have grown enough not to push it away. I hope you’ll have the courage to hold it close and never let it go. 

Sincerely, 

Maxine