A letter from February 22nd, 2021

Dear FutureMe, This a letter for Danny. I hope this email isn’t a nuisance to you. I wouldn’t be surprised if you deleted this before reading any further. You’ve crossed my mind recently. You’ve crossed it in the most healthy way someone can be thinking about their ex can be considered healthy. This is merely a new development, however. For a while after our break up, particularly after seeing you the last time, it kind of messed me up the number of times you popped into my mind. It wasn’t so much guilt as it was nostalgia, but, either way, wasn’t appropriate nor conducive to pursuing a new relationship with another person who I cared deeply about. And I did care about Jer. Truly. But, in hindsight, my own pride and stubbornness obscured my understanding of him as a transitional event in my life – one that I didn’t need, but also one that I didn’t want to discard either. I believe, that personally, dating someone after you was as much necessary as it would have been to move on independently. I was shown the opposite side of the spectrum and it put the way I viewed relationships into perspective. Jer wasn’t my forever and I never thought he’d be. In fact, you had already etched yourself so deeply into that future projection that I’m fortunate if I could find anyone else to fit in there. And surprisingly, I think I may have already, and for the first time ever, I, Amanda Loukatos, am ceasing to be overtly analytical about every nuance and presumption of my relationship and simply choosing to revel in the moment, day after day. I am content but most importantly, satisfied – satisfied with myself and the decisions that I made and that I continue to make. The reason why I’m prattling on about all this is to bring it back to you. Deep down, a part of me regrets having excluded you from my life so starkly, so coldly, as if you meant nothing. But it was the very fact that you meant so much, that a part of you resonated throughout me, within me, always, and it made it excruciatingly hard to imagine staying friends. When you let go of someone you love as much as I loved you, how masochistic and sadistic would it be of me – of us – to assume a sense of normalcy would develop? Nothing between you and I could ever be reduced to that simplicity. It was a whirlwind passion and infatuation that I couldn’t grasp or come to terms with. It was intoxicating and terrifying. I loved it. I loved you. When I was in Africa, there wasn’t a day that went by that I didn’t think, God, Danny would ******* love this. And as the pandemic swept the world onto its *** and I started to question the things that actually mattered, there wasn’t a moment in my yearning to discuss the bigger topics of our lives that my mind didn’t conjure you up. And then one day, I woke up (lower case ‘w’ of course). In a matter of weeks, I had quit godforsaken Hurleys, OFFICIALLY (I was trapped there bc of CERB for a bit), broke off a relationship that left me intellectually stale, found two new jobs, and applied into the program of my dreams and magically got an interview for it and was accepted on the spot. Euphoric. And while I did that all purely for me of course, I couldn’t help but have one person in mind. I think you’ve guessed the pattern by now. In our past, I fought the times you encouraged me to self-reflect, I think more so because I was afraid at what I would find, but also because my own pride wanted me to get there on my own rather than have someone else seemingly pressure me onwards. I don’t know if I’m on the right path. All I know is I’m finally taking personal risks and I’m no longer running away from the unknown but facing it head-on. My perception of the world and its politics have changed so much, that I can viscerally and vividly imagine your proud chuckle at the way that I am able to denounce the indoctrinations of contested ideologies that are being forced down my throat every day. There are so many topics I’d love to pick your brain about. But, I know that our time for friendship has passed and from what I can tell from the small snippets that virtual reality hints at, you are happy. I really hope you are. Thinking you might not be ****** me up for a while too. With all that said, this is the last time I’m reaching out. I do not expect or need a response back. I just wanted to let you know one final time how thankful I am. We didn’t last forever Danny, but the impact you had on my life forever echoes in the choices I make, in the person I want to be, and the kind of life I want to lead. Thank you for seeing that I was more than some empty aggregated shell-replica of society’s norms. I finally like me. Thanks for helping me get there. Love always, Amanda