eris' box of sunshine and light

I'm guessing around as drunk as the night we decided to break up then decided not to because we didn't want to. What I remember of that night is all over the place. Highs and lows. We always did have a talent for running the gauntlet of emotional ranges. I had been fully planning on staying gone, you know. When I left that time, I was going to leave, and not come back, and the very second I saw you, that was out the window. Instead all I wanted to do was see if I could get you into my dressing room and undressed in record time. Then there were other things...I remember sex in the car. That was something. Then there was more arguing, and I remember coming to the conclusion that things weren't working. That there were fundamental flaws in our relationship. But I also remember feeling like the world was ending, and I'm not usually given to being that dramatic. I remember it was when you told me about not being able to be happy. I remember feeling awful about that. You know that, right? That all I ever really wanted for you was to be happy? Living a life you want to be living? Even if I wasn't in it, I wanted that for you. But then, me wanting things for you leads to trouble, as we both know all too well. Mostly I remember how the night ended. How we were both aware of those cracks, those terrible flaws that existed, that we'd unburied...but in the end we decided they didn't matter. I wanted to be with you. You wanted to be with me.

Or maybe you're drunk like the night you told me about Sadie. Or, more, I dug out of you the story of Sadie, since you certainly didn't want to tell me. That's one of the most epic stories of our life together, Brett. Me incessantly trying to get you to tell me things you didn't want to tell me. Then we'd fight about it, then there'd be other things. I miss it. My life has been really calm for a while. You always added fire to it. Even when I was stuck looking at endless days I couldn't see a future for, you always brought that to the table. But I think that's something I always appreciated with you, and I don't think I ever mentioned it. We were both people that weren't overly concerned with pussyfooting around. We said what was on our minds, and we were passionate about it. I have never argued with anyone like I argue with you. I don't miss the emotional sucker punches, but I miss that spark in my life.

I honestly thought that you would regret not turning me in. I've believed up until right now that you did. But that there was still a part of you that for reasons I still don't think I understand fully, won't do it. Did she say the parts about us figuring things out before or after she found out I killed someone? I imagine it would alter the answer.

I'm fairly certain this is a moot point, but I do feel the need to tell you that being the little lady waiting at home for her hubby wasn't what I had problems with. It was that I know you. We still had mountains of things to sort through, and you didn't have the time or inclination to do it. Which is more than understandable. What I couldn't do was set myself up to be someone who was living a ghost life, with someone I'd lived a full life with before. I didn't want to be watching you come in and out when you were too exhausted to read one more case file, when you weren't working yourself to the bone at the department, to come home and...do what? Your focus would always be that, always be the needs of the job. I'm not bitter about it, I'm not throwing a fit, but I wouldn't want to be just a side detail of your life. With you being a detective again, I was sure I would be, especially with all of the issues still there. All I could see was things getting swiftly worse then they would explode and we'd be right back where we had been when we parted ways for good.

Maybe we are picking at scabs. I know I rush to the Round to see if you've written again. That I re-read your letters. I can hear your voice in my head when I do. Your inflection on certain words. Even this one, when it's clear your drunk, I know where you slur and where you don't. Funny how that stays, but important things don't. But your voice is still there, in my head. Echoing.

Seeing around the elephant in the room. What it means is I was a big part of your life, and that's never easy to just let go of. For good or bad, I brought you out of one shell. You went and found yourself another, but that's understandable, considering. But I meant something to you. To believe that just shuts off like a light switch is ridiculous. Maybe what this really is is just the afterimages in your eyes. The lights are out, but there's that lingering impression, it hasn't faded yet. If you give it time, I'm sure it will. Though I agree this won't help that process.

That said, I know, even if I'm sitting here, thinking to myself that this is all masochistic and I should not write you back, not help you poke the wounds, I will. I still can't ignore you. Unless you ask me to. So...ask me to stop. Write 'Julia, don't write me back.' If you write me again, that is. I suppose in light of this, I shouldn't encourage it. But maybe I'm still clinging to my own afterimages.

I have the overwhelming urge to write 'drink some water and get some rest', but I know by the time you get this, it'll be far too late to try and save you from a hangover. But the sentiment is there, just so you know.