#don’t mind me I’m about to start my cycle and I’m in my emotionsss

[rinnysega]

Letter - A Gustavo Drabble

Mi Lienzo,

How have things been in the Encanto? It’s started to rain almost every day here, and I can’t help but miss Pepa’s sunshine. The roads are getting too slippery for me to walk, so Maria had her sons deliver food to me at the motel so I won’t have to leave. She offered her home during the storms, but I think I need this time to reflect on what I’m doing here.

It’a such a foreign feeling to love yourself. I remember being young and going to Confession where self hate seemed to always be brought up in conversation, and all I can say is I’m glad you didn’t know me back then. That feeling carried me for too long, and now here I am at 60, learning something I’ve been told in church ever since I was born. I always thought love meant to serve others, and it brought me immense joy to do so. It still does. To see the good in others - to love others as they were despite my own self. But lately I’ve had to forgive myself for past things I’ve enabled by looking the other way. It’s a tricky balancing act for a man with a bad leg.

Love comes easy to me for others, but not myself. You know this - we’ve talked about it a lot over those first few dinners when we became a couple. I wish I could be with you now and tell you all I’ve learned but letters will have to do for now.

What I can tell you now is I love myself. I love that I have a gift to share with others. Even if it ends in heartbreak, it felt nice in the moment to exist with someone I may or may not ever see again. For instance, I still think about my bus driver on occasion, and I’m thankful we got to spend a short moment in time together in each other’s life. For others…I’m thankful, but the pain lingers.

Some things I’ve found too much as far as pains of the heart go, and I had to put them away. Not gone or forgotten, but just away. But the things I can cope with? They bring me comfort when it’s late at night and I say my prayers for them. I pray for their happiness as I pray for yours too. Death is constant here in the city. The prayers for the dead seem to get longer each week at Mass. Life is precious. A short burst of energy given to us by the Divine to burn out how we see fit with the free will of humanity that lately has become something of a super power to me (which reminds me, I’m bringing back some comic books for your niece).

Life has more than one meaning, and as I meditate and grieve my losses, I am thankful I got to experience them. It would make me happy to have return back to me what I had to let go of, but life doesn’t stop, and neither can I. I may be 60, but there are new things to discover and create, and hey, it’s true what they say that youth is wasted on the young. Daydreams run away with me imagining what I could have done if I’d done this sooner, but better late than never I suppose.

I look forward to coming home to see you, and I am thankful we are together. I hope we last for a long, long time.

Your Arcilla, Gustavo