My Brief but Struggling Love Stories

by Anonymous

art by Anonymous

Dear Jo (archived)

The valley we went to for last week’s school trip reminded me of somewhere very familiar. The cliff crevice where you fell off and left us. It has been like 3 years? or 5 years. I couldn’t quite remember. I remember you being very critical of my nonchalant feelings, and I hope you were no longer mad at me for not crying too hard at your memorial where it had only me and our softball coach. You complained a lot about our school having only women’s

softball but not baseball. Unfortunately, I am still on the school softball team.

Reality has been a bit underwhelming for me recently, as you would imagine- school, work, practice...and over and over again. It might not seem like anything special but— I just gave up on someone I secretly love. My pity party was to go straight into the convenience store near my home and buy the rice balls we both used to like a lot- the tuna mayonnaise flavor (the cooked one, not the raw one). I remember that it used to be our late night treat after softball practice. which reminded me of you. It is late November in Atlanta. I still wear shorts. I’m surprised that I have become resistant to the cold this year. And I no longer binge eat cookies whenever I have a crush on someone, which is relieving news.

I have had unfulfilled love for women. Just like I have had unfulfilled love for skateboarding, ice skating, and “the All Japan Volleyball High School Championship” that you promised to watch with me.

You knew I could be happily alone. I am actually smirkingly, happily alone. But I will be happier if I am no longer confused by who I am-my identities and all. I wish I didn’t hesitate to buy one of those cute pride badges in the bookstore in Taipei. I wish I could find a label to describe my sexuality-to all of the people I secretly had a crush on, I couldn’t find a unified word to describe them. But as I told you- and you knew this all along- I don’t wish to be defined.

There has been a vague sense of unease—some inexplicable, subtle stings that are light, occasional, and inconspicuous, to the point where these feelings are hard to notice. I have been wondering for a long time if it is hard to remain a feminist in a heterosexual relationship. Because, unlike you, I know nothing about sex, about whether I should be happy to be pleased and to receive compliments about my body and femininity. Whether I should like women, or men, or any genders. Whether I can love myself at the same time when I fall in love with others. But maybe—just maybe—I would be happier if I were less of a feminist. I wrote about unreciprocated love on my diary the other day, and I copy here hoping to receive your genuine feedback (I know you are a really good writer):

I wouldn’t cry as much anymore. But sadness crept in when I was waiting in line while silently telling myself not to cry. Sadness prompted me to open my unrequited love playlist on Spotify. But how could something that never happened be called a loss?

I was still acting so nonchalant that my friends even complimented me. Can I love myself? My sadness. My unseen struggle for self-recognition. And those pages of Last Words from Montmartre I flipped through but couldn’t bring myself to read further. I wish I could stop looking for resonance in novels and stories about love that isn’t openly reciprocated. I wish I would never write the way I am writing right now.

That being said, though, I probably won’t talk about love anymore after this letter. Maybe I’m just hyper-alert to the norms and discourse of any human relationships, to expectations of who I should love and hate, and how I should be perceived by myself and others. But in truth, I also wish I could feel that same sense of entitlement as most people

do- other than you. That way, we would be free. Perhaps one condition of love is the relinquishing of power. And because of that, I feel exhausted.

–It’s been so long. How are things going for you? Last time you told me you were bikepacking on the Arizona Trail. Or Arcadia? Because I couldn’t fnd anywhere on the map that says the specific place where you took the picture. (I should probably stop right here, because my mother was frantic when I was writing this letter to you late at night.) I don’t know when and how you will receive this, but I am just writing to let you know that I am much more happily alive right now, and please do reply so that I don’t forget about you.

Yours and mine,

Jo.

[Recording—Untitled 2023/11/22]

Hi Jo! I’m at the sea right now— [sound of wind in the back-

ground]

I hope the wind doesn’t blur my voice too much. I’m stand-

ing on the beach. Feeling the waves lapping my feet. The freeness!

I really wish you were here! [Silence for a second- sound of

steady wind]

The wind is so strong—I can feel it rushing through me. I

also brought...

[people running and passing by; laughing and talking]

Also, Jo, did you know that running barefoot can make you less anxious? [catching breath] I was actually dancing—you wouldn’t believe how relaxing all of this is. You should come. Come and dance with me. And we can shoot a video

of us dancing.

[sound of waves]

You know what- Let’s wear dresses. Let’s let our hair go completely

wild. Let’s get a tattoo. Just the two of us! And we should hug! And

we should kiss! I want to kiss you. I really do.

Dear Jo,

This is probably the last time I’ll write to you. But do not worry!- you can find me anywhere by the sea. Or I could be reading a book by Charles River. Or just picking up cobblestones at a random place on earth. I could probably bike the Arizona trail- just like you did! You will not lose sight of me. I promise.

Last time, you told me to read more books and watch more movies. You told me, and here I quote, “Falling for someone is falling for a narrative- its meaning, its cadence. And perhaps, you should immerse yourself in different new narratives, and wash it away like tears in the rain. But there is a sorrow in this-a quiet, helpless grief.”

Thank you for telling me that. Thank you for acknowledging my sadness. It helped me a lot to get over my unreciprocated feelings at the time. Though I haven’t yet settled, I now gradually find peace with whom I choose to love. I am comfortable just loving the people I love, and putting aside identities for a bit to gleefully enjoy myself.

Now I’m busy rebuilding the crumbled past and mapping out what’s yet to come. So I guess- A toast to growth- to both of us!~Miss and love you lots! But please don’t stop and wait for me. At the same time, I hope you are also on a great journey!

Love,

Jo.