To All The Boys I've Loved Before - Letter 3

Dear Number 3,

I'm not meant to be writing this letter because I don't have feelings for you anymore. I'm not even sure if I had real feelings for you in the first place. But I feel the need to write you this letter because you've been frequenting my dreams ever since the pandemic started, and it needs to go away.

But before it goes away, I want to know exactly why your presence is haunting me. Let's psychoanalyze the shit out of this.

Around this time last year I was still an emotional wreck, completely possessed by a wave of post-show pessimism. Playing Maria was, at the time, the only thing to have motivated me through life. Being one of my dream roles, I thought I would have never been able to reach such an important goal as a seventeen year old. Because of this concept, my mind would have perceived everything that came along with it to be significant as well. That included (and sadly, still includes) you.

You complete asshole. This was your first lead role in all the twelve shows you had done in your musical theater repertoire, and you took it for granted. The way you were never on time for rehearsals, the way you sped off after rehearsals or in between them, and the way you barely communicated with me. You made me feel awkward at every rehearsal. If you had the decency to see that beyond the character there is a real person portraying her, the musical would've been more of a positive, memorable experience as a whole. Perhaps you'd be able to acknowledge the show to make you more humble, but I swear that you will brush it off when you look back on your teenage years when you reach the top of your acting career -- - if you'll ever even have one. 

Anyway, let's focus on the kind of dreams I've been having involving you. Yes, despite moving three hours away from home, taking the first step of my science career, and completely surrounding myself with a new group of friends, you've managed to creep into my dreams. I know it's not your fault. But I just feel like lashing out because I don't deserve to be reminded of you in a time when I'm supposed to be focusing on other things.

The first dream I remember involving you took place during West Side shows. I overslept to the point when I missed the beginning of the show entirely, which was ironic since you'd be the type to do that. When I arrived at the theater I was surprised to see that the show hadn't started at all. Instead, you were sitting on the stage talking to the director and the both of you were in the middle of an interview with a local news reporter. You and the director looked up as you saw me staring from the entrance, and instead of lashing out the director smiled, waved, and asked me to join you. I walked over to you in a tense manner, shocked to be calmly acknowledged by our director. And then we were asked to duet either the song 'Endless Love' or 'Walking in the Rain' from Beautiful the Musical, I don't remember specifically. Without even being prompted we acted out the entire duet running around different parts of the stage and leaning into each other's faces, and the disgust of the scene must've been enough to wake me up. Thank god it cut right there. I remember waking up gagging.

The next dream I remember was a mere three nights after the first. During some kind of university break, I drove to the city you're studying uni at, which is a shocking 6-hour drive, just so you could show me what your life is like there. We weren't necessarily dating; more like we were close friends. We wandered around the city, holding hands or linking arms. I don't know which one specifically, but it was gross either way. The next moment it was already nighttime, and we were sitting on the steps of a historical building which looked similar to the Metropolitan museum, and you asked me if I would move to this city just so we could be close to each other. As if I would drop my developing career in science in a university I'm already settled in and extend my studies just for a man. Gross. I then picked up my phone and saw fifteen missed calls from my mother, and realized that I promised to be back at home the same day. And then I woke up. Thank god.

I don't know what the moral of the story is from these dreams, but if it wasn't clear enough, I want it to be that you stop barging into my thoughts as rudely as the person you already are. I hate that my dreams are beyond my control, or at least the ones that I remember involve you as a supporting character. This is a very rare time where I want some kind of love (even unrequited. Literally anything. Please.) in my real life just so I can replace your existence.

Find your own way to the exit,

Marian