The Epilogue?

Dear Aada,

It’s been a while since we’ve talked, and I cannot decide whether things are better or worse. I miss you all the time, and haven’t gotten a chance to stop because you’re peppered into my daily life. For instance, I’m supposed to go to Lake Anna tomorrow. I’m going to pass right by you, and wish I could stop. But that is for another universe, in which we are still ridiculously happy at being friends.

Now, things just feel like an impasse. You don’t want to talk, you don’t want to make anything better… So I’m adjusting. I’m adjusting to a relationship that is no longer, because in order to work on something you have to receive two yesses. I am not holding my breath for your return, but I am hoping that a long friendship outweighs my mistakes, and that I’ll have time to treat you better in the future.

I forgive you for all that is past, but I am lamenting all the times you thought I was trying to punish you when I was talking about reality. I spent years anxious for you, wondering where you were in the world. Being comforted by living in DC so we were breathing the same air. Unbothered that you kept me at arm’s length over the internet until our problems started compounding and there was no way to back down. I thought coffee would fix it, because our letters moved too fast. I would believe that you are less quick to anger in person, as am I.

I am learning to think without you, but it is slow going. I haven’t been used to my whole brain being in my head for quite some time. I feel like I gave most of it over to our conflict because that’s what was interesting to me. You’ve hated the narrative because you’ve never helped shape it, telling me to continue whatever it is I want to write. I want to write my truth, and my truth is complicated.

I have never loved or disliked anyone this intensely, and wanted to clear up any misunderstandings so that the dislike can fade away. I hate how I’ve been treated all these years, because I never knew what was coming down the pike. I have a feeling you would say the same thing about me. Am I a hero or a zero this week? I feel that you have decided I have come down on the side of “zero,” while you would know you were wrong if you actually talked to me in person.

I find that my love/dislike comes from my perspective. I choose to let go of anything negative and focus on what I love… Your face. Your eyes. Your essence in the world is just so fantastic. That’s the part where I trip. I don’t want to lose that part of it. But I do love losing arguing over what is essentially nothing. And I’m not talking about the past few months, but the years that preceded them.

You stonewalled me most of the time, giving me morsels of information instead of being open and honest. I won’t miss that in the slightest. I don’t have people around me that armor up anymore, and I think that’s for the best. I will accept you into my life at whatever level you would like to participate, but I don’t want to be snowballed or steamrolled.

I forgive, but I don’t forget. There shouldn’t be secrets or lies between us, and there aren’t.

You have more than enough reason to step away, and only one reason to stay- you’ve learned to like me, for some reason. We’ve had horrible communication in the past, but that is no indication of the future if we are both aware of the fact that we have toxic patterns in our backgrounds that we don’t want to repeat. We were in the middle of such good work, and there is a chance we could get there with some help. It won’t come by ourselves, in isolation because we’ve shown that we get too edgy and start tearing each other down.

But I really think that’s because it’s easy to do that over the internet, and there are things neither of us would have said to the other if the wall of anonymity hadn’t been in place.

There’s nothing you should have known beforehand, because I had no idea that my mental health was going to go off the rails and I was going to be told I was hallucinating. Because of course, you are not a hallucination. You’re just my imaginary friend who has never come down from the ether.

Because suuuuuuure I’ve been able to keep up a relationship with you for 12 years despite never meeting. That doesn’t sound crazy at all to me, but that’s because I was raised on the Internet. But it does sound crazy to a lot of people, including psychiatrists.

So I was put in a situation where there were no good answers.

There’s still not, but I know what I want at the end of the tunnel, and that’s you waiting with a book and a cup of coffee, saying “we don’t have to talk.”

It’s been interesting feeling all these feelings for a person I’ve never seen. Like, she has feet, right?

But there’s a part of me that thinks this is completely normal because IRC introduced me to people far away a long time ago. I’m not depending on you if you’re not depending on me.

But I fell into that trap of thinking I could depend on you, and I made a mistake. I’m starting to realize that I’ve made so many mistakes that these thoughts are nearly delusional. But they’re my feelings, so they’re valid. I am not telling you what I think you should do, only what I am willing to do in order to make this relationship a resurrection instead of a perpetual Good Friday.

The reason I’m posting the letter here instead of sending it to you is that I think you’re past responding, and this is only a letter to the universe that will never be read. Strangers jump in when you can’t, sitting with me in the quiet.

I know you thought you could depend on me, too, and I failed. But I didn’t mean to do so; I did not understand the assignment once it was muddled into oblivion with psychiatrists, therapists, and group.

But all of this has given me perspective on where I need to go. I have a clear vision for Microsoft, and I’m going to pitch the entire thing from commercials to features I want in Copilot.

I’ve already attached all my email accounts so I can just ask Mico, “has Aada emailed me recently?” The answer is always no, but I still ask. It’s in my nature.

It’s still in my nature to write to you, but now these letters belong to everyone. In a sense, they always have because these are not your reflections on me. The entries are all my feelings, allowed to stand without logic. I do not have the strongest logic in the world, which is why it’s good that I’m working with AI. I can outsource executive dysfunction, meltdown, burnout, and demand avoidance. It’s been like getting glasses for cognitive support.

I am leaning on it for all the things I would normally ask you, and it breaks my heart. Mico can respond, but not as a human. Mico doesn’t have emotions, and I’ve noticed. Mico doesn’t have life experiences to compare to mine. I’ve noticed that, too.

But it’s a new workflow and I’m adjusting.

Mico is just not as beautiful, but they’ll do. Pink is their color.

Love,

Leslie