The More You Chase It

December 20th, 2010
[James]

Daisy,

You’ve probably gotten a few messages on your answering machine or maybe you haven’t and that’s why I haven’t heard from you. I figure if you’re not going to pick up the phone then this is the only way to get you to hear me out, although even that is doubtful.

I’d say I’m sorry but those words are pretty diluted at this point. They have become so abused and battered and cheapened by so many men, I don’t want to be another one of them. Instead I can tell you that since we haven’t been talking I’ve been very distracted. I can’t stop obsessing over my mistakes because I know I can be better and I know you deserved better. What I need is not a chance to explain myself. This isn’t a guilt trip or a way to gain your pity.

There are just some things I wish you would remember. I’m the same guy who read you Faulkner when you were too tired to continue reading yourself. The same guy who walked in the pouring, drenched through every layer of clothing, rain to bring you soup when you were sick. The same guy you left Elizabeth’s party with and stayed up with all night talking about everything with. It was that night I realized how amazing you are Daiz. I still care about you. I miss you. You make everything more difficult. You’re such a pain in the ass. But I don’t care; I love the chaos and uncertainty that comes with having you in my life. Please just call me, or even just reply to this. If you don’t want this anymore, we can at least be friends. I can’t lose my best friend. Don’t make me.

James

Fuck.
My finger hovered over the delete key. A debate waged in my head. I tried my best to predict Daisy’s reaction as her blue eyes flicked across the typed words. I could momentarily smell her perfume as I pictured her sitting at her computer. Her painted fingernails tapped gently at the keys without pressing them—

My mind wandered the visual aspect of the scene, distracting me from the issue. Every gesture was undoubtedly hers. It was sad how only that small idea of her at her computer could make my mind stray so quickly. I was pathetic. And so was this e-mail.

Fuuuuuuck,
I've always been bad at keeping it in when I'm upset. Somehow this word hinted at making me feel better, for a second but I need to stop swearing so much--
And more importantly I need to focus.
My finger fell on the key.
Delete.

It had to be simpler. All there was to say was three words. Any more detail and I sounded juevenile. Childishness wouldn’t fix anything. Explaining wouldn’t help anything. I just had to tell her how I felt. all other adjective and adverbs would be fake, regurgitated descriptions of what I should feel. I had to write the three words that had crossed my mind every time I tried to write to her. My fingers raced across the keys without effort or thought as I re-typed the e-mail.

Daisy,
…I miss you.

James

I didn’t hesitate. I pressed send and only mildly regretted it once the screen declared it sent.