May 28, 2000
So I went out for coffee with Le tonight. I haven't seen her since she stopped talking to me because of this stupid web site, and well, I really wanted to see her before I run off to Texas for the summer. Even though it's been some five months or so since she broke up with me, we have yet to really discuss it, and I finally asked her a while ago if we could try and have that discussion at some point.
So we reached some sort of "closure." Or at least I think we did, I'm not sure I even know what closure means, it's one of those nebulous terms people just throw out. I feel better, and it wasn't as disastrous as I thought it would be.
Really, it was just nice to be able to sit down and talk with her again. I miss that. I miss her. And even though I said I fucking hated the idea of still being "friends," well, I was just being immature. Or maybe not immature, I don't know. I didn't want to be friends just to prove that I could or that the whole thing wasn't a big deal and everything is all peachy. Really, I didn't want to do it because I thought seeing her would just make me miserable and would make me again regret a million things I didn't do and didn't say.
But I think I'm past that now. Le is really great, and even though she's broken my fragile little heart multiple times, I still think the world of her, and if we can't be together, then I'd at least like to be friends with her again. And I think, hopefully, we will be friends again.
And no, sorry, I'm not going to compress down the dialogue and share it with the world, it just wouldn't be right.
Although Le said some things about playing roles, or caricatures of ourselves, and it really got me thinking. I mean, it's one thing to share the "real" you in writing. It's hard, writing is hard, portraying "reality" is hard, and things just often up end compacting down to this cliche level, and people seem like flat one-dimensional caricatures or themselves. And that's one thing, but I think that I have this problem with sometimes actually living out that caricature... because it's very easy for me fall into the role of the insensitive, asshole guy. But people aren't caricatures. I'm not mr. trenchant asshole who hates the world, Le's not ms. angry little anal-retentive asian pre-med, but it's too easy to just play and interact in those stupid caricatures sometimes. A lot easier than being real and dealing with the depth and complexity behind the caricature. And it's bad, because nothing is that simple, nobody is a caricature, we're all complex and multifaceted and feel and emote and need to break "character" and just be and that's what I'm going to try and do.
I don't know if this is even making any sense, and I'm really tired since I haven't been sleeping enough, which is no excuse really, but if I don't write this now I probably never will.
But I feel better. I'm leaving Stanford for the summer without the horrible sense of leaving the only thing that was really important to me this year in such a disturbingly unfinished and "unclosed" state.
And Le and I decided to write letters, not email, good old fashioned delivered by a postman letters, to each other this summer. We did that last summer too, and it was great. I love her letters. Of course, I love writing letters to her so much that sometimes I want to carbon-copy them and keep the original for myself. She feels the same way about her letters, which is I think why it works.
copyright 2000 adam mathes