I didn’t see that when I was standing on the edge of the roof.
The bird convinced me she was better off without me, and that I could take care of her better from somewhere above.
Even though I’ve known for a long time the bird doesn’t exist, there have been moments of exception when he broke through the wall of reality and was real.
Now with the right meds tweaking my brain, the bird is gone. I thought I would miss him, but I don’t. I miss the real bird—the tiny blue pet bird that kept me company when I was a little kid. The bird whose feather I wear. But I don’t miss the bird that was in my mind that gave a voice to my illness.
I miss my ladybug. I miss her beautiful bluish-green eyes and the way her honey hair moves like silk over her thin shoulders. I miss her giggle and her smile and the way she purrs like a kitten when my hands and mouth are on her. Mostly I miss how she loves me the way I need to be loved.
Ladybug,
Your letter was like a light thrown to me in a dark tunnel. It helped me get through some of the hardest steps that I wasn’t sure I could take.
There’s so much I want to say to you. My mind is jumbled but not in the fucked-up way it used to be. I have bouts of clarity I’ve never felt before. Words and thoughts come at me now at lightning speed. It’s overwhelming. Before, everything was always muddy and slow. I had to dig through it all to find and understand my own thoughts. Some days, I’m completely exhausted, but in a different way than I used to be. I feel clear and happy one day and sluggish and moody the next. The doctor says I’ll level out and things won’t always feel this way, but you’re right, a new version of me could emerge from this and I can only hope that you’ll still feel the same way about me. Right now I honestly don’t know who’s living in my head.
Before I keep rambling about all sorts of shit, I love you. I love you so damn hard and I’m so fucking sorry. I never meant to hurt you, or Lyric. Reece told me Lyric doesn’t know what I did. I wish she would never have to know but I also think she needs to know. I’ll leave it up to you on when and how you want to tell her. You can tell her, or I can tell her, or we can tell her together. I only want her to be okay and not be hurt or scared by what I’ve done. I hope she can forgive me. I’ll spend the rest of my life showing you both how much I love you and appreciate you. I’ll never hurt either of you again. That much I do know for sure.
I know I severed our trust. I don’t expect you to let that go easily and I don’t want you to. We have a long road in front of us, but we’ve been down long bumpy roads before and I hope we can get to the end of this one together. I can’t do it without you. Please keep wearing my ring. I’m still hoping we can get our happy ending.
I never told you I went to a regular doctor on the road and got meds for anxiety and depression and insomnia. I thought it would chill me out so I could enjoy more of our wedding and not feel so distracted in my head. I didn’t know the wrong meds could make me worse. Apparently neither did he. I could feel my head getting worse but I didn’t know how to stop it. So, I took more pills. I guess Ellie was right and it’s good this happened because I never knew what was wrong with me. I just thought I was different, confused, eccentric, depressed, and basically fucked up. I drank and did drugs because I didn’t know how else to deal with how I felt inside or how to make it stop. Now I know what’s wrong with me has a label. Several. Bipolar, depression, personality disorder, dissociative, hypomania. I forget the rest, but that’s enough. My entire life I lived in this crazy abyss of emotions, voices, and confusion. I tried to exist in a world where others couldn’t see or hear things the same way I did. Now I have to try to sort it all out and find who I am in this when the dust settles. Some days I worry my ass off. What if I’m too different? What if you don’t like me? What if Lyric doesn’t like me? What if all my creativity is gone? What if I can’t write or play guitar anymore? What if I feel like a zombie all the time? What if the bird comes back?
I want you to know that all my feelings for you were always real. Everything we shared was real. I understand you might doubt that now. You were never a part of my delusions. You were my only anchor. I always knew with you what was real and what I could trust. You saw the real me. I felt my best when I was with you.
I’m sorry this is a rambling mess. I’m still learning and still getting better. I’ll probably never be normal, but I’m sure I can be more normal than I was. The doctors are helping me and they’ll keep helping me after I leave. I promise to stay in treatment and on the right meds.
Physically I’m starting to feel better. I’m in physical therapy and still have some lingering pain but I’m not taking any pills for pain.
Fuck, I just ramble a lot now. I hope that gets better or I’m going to be annoying as fucking hell. I was hoping to still write songs after I left the band but now I’ll be writing songs with ten thousand words.
It’s time for me to go to group and share my feelings. I’m not kidding. I’m going to tell them I finally got up the guts to write to you. Maybe I’ll get a gold star.
I miss you, baby, so much I can’t even put into words. I’m going to call you when I feel a little less rambly and jumbled.
Thank you for not giving up on me and for always being everything I need. I hope you believe that and I hope you can someday let me show you how much I love you. I hope you’re okay and taking care of yourself. I don’t want you worrying about me all the time. I want you to be happy and feel safe and loved. I still want to give you everything in the world, but for now, we’re back where we once were and all I can give you is my love.
I love you like no tomorrow,
Evan
Chapter Sixty-Two
Evan.
First a crystal vase of beautiful exotic flowers arrived, and then two days later a letter came. Both from Evan.
I wonder what it means that he’s suddenly signing with his real name. Is the doctor forcing him to? Or is he doing it on his own?
Regardless, he’s reaching out and slowly letting me back in. I wouldn’t have minded if he rambled on in a letter of a hundred pages. All that matters is that he’s alive, he’s getting real help, and he sounds realistic and hopeful.
And he still loves me. He’s not giving up on us.
I needed to hear his words just as much as he needed mine.
I’m filling the vase with fresh water from the kitchen sink when my phone rings. I don’t recognize the number on the caller I.D. and almost don’t answer it, but I give in and pick it up on the fourth ring.
“Hello?”
I’m met with silence on the other end, but my heart already knows who it is. I can actually feel his nervousness buzzing through the line.
“I was just giving the flowers fresh water,” I say. “They’re beautiful. Thank you for such a nice surprise. I was having a bad day when they came, and it totally cheered me up.”
“Why were you having a bad day?”
God, his voice. It’s been almost three months since I’ve heard his sexy, gravelly voice, and it brings me back to the times we’d go years without talking, and when he’d finally call, my insides would quiver and quake at the sound of his voice. Just like they’re doing now.
I should keep the conversation casual.
No tears. No questions. No pressure.
“The usual stuff. I had to sit through five boring meetings at work and listen to people be assholes about unrealistic deadlines. Then my computer crashed and I lost what I was working on because it didn’t auto-save. It was just a yucky day. Getting surprise flowers from you turned my entire day around.”
“Oh yeah? Just like that?”
My fingers tighten around the phone when I catch a hint of his familiar teasing tone.
“Yup. Just like that,” I reply. “I got your letter a few days ago, too.”