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  • Writer's pictureBillie Proffitt


The distinctive seatbelt ding of FlightTrackPro informed me your plane left the ground the very second the little green light of my hotel room door clicked open - our cosmic timing again tied together, albeit crossing opposing thresholds into very different & very distant, spaces. You hadn’t responded to my text, not because you didn’t have the time, but because you continually want to remain aloof & show that you are indifferent to me.

Thank god I had already requested a wine opener & glass be sent up to crack the bottle of Pinot you brought me, a polite conversational distraction from the scene running through my head over & over again of our fight on the way to the airport… Of me begging you to say something real, to open up to me - honestly for you to tell me you love me, & yet your avoidance of all of it dominated the scene with every possible distraction. Same shit, different day.

What is usually one of my favorite things in the world - checking into a great hotel room with a rocking view & strewing my things all over it as if I'm a 16-year-old girl getting ready for Winter Formal - suddenly felt too big & too empty… Too lonely without you. The tears on my face had dried but neither the crease in my brow nor the clench in my throat had loosened even after the room service guy kindly handed me the cork & bid me adieu.

What could have been a beautiful, revealing conversation about what's happening - that in our refusal to let that last rung go, we are also clinging to of all the horrible experiences in our pasts & all those killjoy logistics of our spread-out, spontaneous lives that compound to make the mote drowning any chance for us to fall in love... Instead became an ugly mess of confusing miscommunications & simultaneous hurt feelings.

Last week I sent you an email titled Theme Song : The Art of Escape by Hein Cooper (which I’m sure you didn’t open) in hopes of setting the precedence of our trip. Alternatively, the song you requested most was inarguably The Weight.

I picked up my bags, I went looking for a place to hide…

And the 2nd strongest undertow became both of our favorite Springsteen songs, I’m On Fire. Just another example where we’re brought undeniably together, only for the correlation to dissipate with your forbidding detachment.

Sometimes it’s like someone took a knife, Baby, edgy & dull, & cut a 6” valley through the middle of my soul… At night I wake up with the sheets soakin’ wet & a freight train runnin’ through the middle of my head, & you…You cool my desire…

Fate & flow are the same to me - without genuine desire & focused action, neither can be redirected… But one must first believe that there is more than one way to skin a cat. I’m too old to spend my time vying for your attention or trying to convince you that I’m good enough - & you’re too old to be incapable of deciphering who across this broad world is worth opening up to & sharing yourself with.

I’m all ears for when you have a voice to speak honest words worth listening to, but in the meantime, I have to let you go. I wish for you all the success, happiness & fulfillment this life can bring you, because the truth is…

I love you.

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