When I was thirteen years old, I came home from school to discover that the Soviet Union had done something that they couldn't possibly do (I think they somehow repealed the Bill of Rights to the United States Constitution). The U.S. considered this an act of war and responded with nuclear weapons. Of course, the Soviets retaliated in kind. From my kitchen window, I watched as a missile was about to explode just up the road. The only thing I could do was pick up the phone and frantically try to call you to tell you I loved you. I don't remember my call getting through.
Of course, this is the point where I woke up to discover the whole thing was just a bizarre dream/nightmare. But I did get an uneasy feeling that if I didn't tell you how I felt about you that something globally catastrophic would happen.
Two weeks later, I finally worked up the courage to tell you I loved you. Your reaction was pretty much what I predicted. I walked away from it feeling the way I thought I'd feel--rejected, dejected, and thoroughly humiliated. But, hey, the world didn't end, so I must have done something right.
When I was 27, those feelings were still there. We'd been through a lot together since the end of the Cold War--good times, bad times, two weeks in England and Scotland. You were my best friend. I've never in my life been closer to anyone. No matter how much I tried to convince myself that any youthful romantic feelings I had for you were in my more youthful romantic past, everyone around me seemed to know otherwise. Clearly I was in denial.
I debated putting my heart on the line once again. I didn't say anything because we'd just moved in together with my cousin a month earlier and I didn't want to make things awkward for any of us, especially him. I also knew there was no way I could compete with a British accent that was fifteen years my senior. So I said nothing. I'd been through that humiliation before and it still stung. I didn't see the point in subjecting myself to it again.
I think it's safe to say that the events of 11 September, 2001, constituted a global catastrophe. Arguably the ramifications of it persist to this day. When I was first informed as to what was going on in New York and Washington, DC, the first thing I thought of was that dream I had when I was thirteen and the virtually public humiliation I forced myself to endure in order to prevent a calamity such as what we were now experiencing. Did I really save the world that autumn day in 1987? Probably not. I find it highly unlikely that I have that kind of influence over international politics. But on the off, off, off chance that I did, what if I could have prevented 9/11 simply by telling you that I love you? That would have also prevented a 20-year war in Afghanistan, a side boondoggle in Iraq... honestly, who knows how differently the world might have turned out?
I tend to look at the human race as God's failed third grade science project--put specimens in a jar and see which one(s) will eat the other(s) first. In the intervening two decades, I've watched the human race, specifically America, decline drastically. Wars, plague, climate change, mass shootings, road rage, partisan politics--we all know how to fix these things, but we refuse to do so because ultimately it negatively affects the bottom line. There's no real money in it for the greedy, corrupt people who are running everything. We can fix a lot of problems, but the real root cause of it--mass human stupidity--is incurable. And I've lost so much faith in my own species, that I'm not sure it's worth saving.
As I write this, it would appear that all hell is on the verge of breaking loose in Eastern Europe. I'm predicting that if (more likely when) it does, it will start World War III. Honestly, I genuinely don't care anymore. I figure it's been roughly 80 years since the last one, we're overdue for another. And yet, in spite of my possibly apocalyptic apathy, I feel I have a moral obligation to try to prevent it if I can.
Yes... after all these years, I'm still in love with you. I don't know why--I mean, after all, you're a lying cunt--but I am.
I know I'm not supposed to feel this way, but falling in love is the only thing in my life that I truly regret. It cost me my heart, my soul, my best friend (a couple of times), arguably my immune system, and my left hip. It turned me into a bitter, cynical old man before I was 30. It brings out the absolute worst traits in me as a human being. Frankly, I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. And I don't know if I regret falling in love or if I regret falling in love with you, but since you're the only person with whom I've ever truly been in love, I can't really make a proper distinction.
Many years ago, I gave up on ever finding anyone with whom to share my life. I realize that's bleak, but I figure if you can't measure up to married men and suicidal drunks in the eyes of your own best friend, you probably won't find anyone. Besides, you can only get called a "really nice guy" so many times before you start to believe your own bad press. I get it--I'm no one's ideal man. The good news is, I no longer feel like I have to impress anyone. Besides, I've never found anyone who made me feel the way you did... and I mean that in a good way.
As cynical, bitter, resentful, and angry as I am toward you (and, believe me, I am), for some fucking ungodly reason, every time I see an old picture of you, something inside me melts and I begin to ache in ways that only missing someone you love can cause. In those moments, all I want to do is hold you as tightly as I can for as long as you'll let me. If I'm honest with myself, that's really all I've ever wanted since we were eleven years old.
I know you don't feel the same toward me (or at least that's what you claim). Hell, you probably won't even read this, but at least it will be out there in all its humiliating glory. I doubt that it will change the world, certainly not for the better. As I said, I'm not sure humanity as a whole is worth saving, and I know I no longer care. But, just in case it does make a difference, I suppose it would be immoral of me not to at least try to do the right thing. And if World War III doesn't break out in the next few weeks, I guess it will have worked.
