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a pledge of love which was left unsaid
Back at the time when we met, I experienced God. And I was writing a “fictional” story during this time, but this “fictional” story became real when Providence brought it to life in the people and events around me. Two aspects of this story which I was writing and living were that
1) God’s Providence was writing a story through my life in order to teach the truth of God and ethics to the masses, and
2) my Spiritual story involved me finding my perfect other to make Spiritual art with, which I thought was you.
It was beautiful when I first came across you, and finding all of these Providential coincidences between our lives, finding this girl whose torso floated about evenly while your legs moved rather unnoticeably below you, a soul “made right,” in my eyes and heart. I talked with you briefly at Innertown, and heard you say that you were an artist, and I heard the tones of your voice, issuing up clearly and sincerely from inside, and I watched the smooth well-controlled way you did things, the “best girl in Wicker Park.” Somehow I arranged to drive you home in my cab, and I remember looking forward to and then experiencing you sitting next to me in my car, and hoping that this arrangement might continue, you next to me, as companion. And then I remember you on your knees with your art spread out on the floor before you, sitting comfortably in jeans, tenderly holding a beautiful picture you had crafted in your slender fingers, looking at it, the picture of your mother, I believe, with soft love in your eyes and tenderness in your fingers, holding a mere piece of paper with such tenderness, with me watching you, and then I knew you were the girl for me.
And after just a couple days of knowing you, I wrote you that letter, explaining the Providence was writing a real life story through me, explaining that all of these providential coincidences between us may mean that we were made for each other, explaining how you were the “best of” all of my past girlfriends in one small artist package, and so on.
And then, as this story that I was writing was coming to life around me, I came to believe one afternoon that evil might hurt you, for various reasons. And so I sped 50 blocks through red lights and everything else to find you; the one main thing that I did not want to happen was for you to be hurt. And then I got to your apartment, so happy to find you safe and smiling. And we talked for hours, the best night of my life, to talk with my suddenly found other. You told me that you had worn a nice dress when you had been baptized as a youth, but you had quit the Baptist Church because the people weren’t really sincere. And I thought that was cool, and I told you so many things. And since I was actively writing and living my own story, and since evil was lurking around, I said something crazy like, “Well, if anything bad happens, just agree to marry me.” Somehow - in the whirlwind of Providential events which had left my mind dazzled - I thought that marriage might consummate the ending to this story which I was writing and living. It was strange, I was being creative and romantic, but also, I felt, at least, inspired to think that marriage was, somehow, simply the end to this story which I was writing and living. And you never really said “no” or “yes” to my idea of marriage, for the conversation moved on.
And when I was done explaining my outrageous life to you - the union with God, God=s Providence writing a story through me, etc. - then you told me to go the fridge and read the magnet on the door, and the magnet on the door said, “Back to Reality...” And this saddened me, because, I had learned about “true love” with you that evening. “True love” means wanting to be with a woman and not wanting to be with any other woman period. Your studio and your soul was my few hours of sanctuary during that harrowing point in my life. I really wanted to stay with you that night and never leave you, so I could be truly happy deep inside which is so rare... But there was nothing I could do but be polite... And so you walked me to the front door of your apartment building, and I knew I had to go back into the “reality” of my life... And as I walked out the door, my cab was in the middle of the street, and it was still running, or else the door was open, and I said to you something like, “That’s part of the story that I am writing and living. I have to basically give up everything in order to pursue God and truth and love. I can=t even take the time to try to park.” And you smiled like you loved me...
And I was in love with you...
I do not know if I will see you again in this life or in the next, but, I hope minimally this letter to you gets published in my poetry or whatever, and I hope you read it some day, my gift of “true love” to you, Adriana, my little woman, Ada.
And since writing this letter to you, I have made and written other beautiful things for you, which will be yours if we meet again. But I have largely forgotten in my heart the feeling I had for you. Although intellectually speaking, I know that it was the way I have written it to be, and it=s the most painful loss in the world. firstname.lastname@example.org