Do you remember this? Probably not. It’s called Tuesday Taylor’s Penthouse apartment and I used to own one and forced you to play with me as often as I possibly could. Do you remember we were going to live in a penthouse just like this, somewhere exciting and amazing like New York or L.A? I was going to be a writer, and you were going to be an artist. We would have the coolest friends and have the best parties. Our apartment was going to be the best place anyone had ever seen, We were going to have charmed lives, you and I. Do you remember?
Needless to say, we never did have our apartment. I never moved anywhere exciting or amazing, just to Baltimore. You never left New Jersey for long. I never sold (or wrote) the Great American Novel, and you never sold a painting. The thing is, even with all the messed up, crazy twists and turns my life took, I always thought that there was time to go back. I always thought we could have an amazing penthouse, just like Tuesday Taylor. Then you left.
This has been a terrible week. It’s been a terrible string of weeks, actually. Last night, it happened again. I picked up the phone and called you. This time, it actually rang once, before I remembered that you will never answer my call again. I really need to talk to you. It’s not as bad as it sounds. I have friends here, a few that genuinely do care about me, and I know for certain that if I call them and say I need to talk, they will listen. All night if I need them to. Sometimes though? I need someone who knows my roots. Someone who knows me at my core, better than I know myself. Someone who can remind me of where I came from, and can make me laugh at things that happened before I ever became the person I am today. For me, there was only one person left like that. That person was you, and now your gone. Who the hell can ever replace you in my life? Absolutely no one.
You really suck, you know. I have SO much going on in my life, so many changes. Some days I am literally paralyzed with fear (you know I never handle change well, even if it’s good change). I need to get drunk and listen to your stupid stories about your latest death defying antics. I need to hear you laugh when I tell you how hard it is to raise a teenage girl. I need to hear you cheer and say ‘I told you so’ when I tell you I finally left Bob for real and for good. Really, what I need is you. I need you to be there, and you’re not, and I am so pissed that you left me anchorless I cannot even begin to tell you. When someone is as important as you
were no, are to me, for as long as you were, there isn’t any way to fill the void that is left. You know better than anyone, I know how to deal with death of people. People I love. People that mean everything to me. I just never thought I would have to deal with yours. I’m tired of dealing. I don’t want to have to deal anymore. You are in a better place now, and if I know you, you are completely in control in Heaven, so if you could make it so I don’t have to deal with anyone else leaving? That would be awesome.
I found the picture of our fantasy apartment on Ebay. That makes me happy. Maybe one day I will buy one. I will fill it with two Barbies, one blonde and one brunette, a computer for me, and an easel for you. It won’t be the same of course, but maybe, in some small way, I can make our childhood dreams come true. I love you, and I miss you like crazy.
All my love, always,