History 1

Paul,

I must have been over this letter a hundred times in my head, but I never really thought about how I’d start it. How do you start a letter like this? I figured the hardest part was actually mustering up the strength to write it at all. I guess I should reveal my purpose here. I had to say something. I hope you’ll understand. It’s not that I’m expecting anything to be done or said afterward, but you see I have to say something or I’ll regret it forever. I happen to believe that one should try very hard to regret nothing in life. But if I let this go, it would, I’m sure, haunt me forever. So you see, this is why I’m writing this letter. 

What is it that I need to say then? Okay, here it is. I’m very much attached to you, despite the truth of the matter; that you may not even know my name. I’m quite infatuated with you, regardless of the fact that you barely know I exist. I am, in spite of myself, in love with everything about you, notwithstanding the reality of the situation; you being engaged that is. I have been, for exactly one year and two months, completely and utterly infatuated with you. For all but one month of that time, I have known all too well that you are engaged. You see, I could never have done this face to face. I was so afraid of one possible reaction that I convinced myself that a letter would spare me much of the trouble and heartache. You see, I wasn’t afraid that you’d laugh at me, or that you’d look at me funny, and I certainly wasn’t afraid of you telling me you felt the same. I wasn’t even afraid of you looking at me and saying honestly that you are happy and in love with the woman you are engaged to. What I was afraid of was confessing these things to you, and watching you not say a word. Having you watch me walk away without saying anything. 

Why is there such urgency in telling you these things? As you may or may not remember from any of the various conversations we’ve had randomly in Blockbuster, I am going away to school in New York City.  I heard from another Blockbuster employee that you are getting married in November. Since I don’t come home until Thanksgiving, you would already be married by the time I came home. And while it wasn’t life or death, I felt it was more appropriate now, than it would be then.

You probably think I’m crazy, and truthfully, this is the craziest thing I’ve ever done.. But I wanted to make sure you knew. Before you take your final vow and before it is too late, I wanted to know that you are truly happy. Honestly, that was the only thing I ever wanted. I keep this diary, and well I wrote about you a lot. Anyway, this is part of an entry that I wrote about you. I thought maybe you’d be interested. The song I’m referring to is “California” By Phantom Planet.

“Now more than ever I think I’ll always think of Paul when I hear this. 

I had somehow always connected it to him anyways…now I think when I hear 

the song I’ll just close my eyes and imagine the two of us in his green sephia

 with the rgue ldr license plates and the windows down and the two of 

us happy doing whatever it is we want to do…never settling for second 

best…god I hope he never does…settle for second best–I want him 

to be so happy.” 6/18/04

So, there it is. My wish for you. To be happy, to find a career that pleases you wholly, to never settle for second best, to never ever grow up…no mater what…even when you’re married. It seems a lot easier to pull random entries from my diary than it is actually write this letter. So here’s another one that sums up what I’m trying to say right now.

“Allison told me I need to just tell him how I feel about him. Maybe she’s right…but let’s think about this situation for a second. I go in to Blockbuster…or Movie Starz where ever it is where I end up doing it…and I walk up to him. ”Hey, Paul. I’m not even 100% sure that you know my name…but I have to tell you this. I like you. I’ve liked you for a really long time. For the past year and a half I have been utterly infatuated with you. I know that you’re engaged…and it probably doesn’t make a difference to you at all…you probably don’t even care…but I do. And I just thought you should know…..oh and hey…just because you’re getting married doesn’t mean you have to be grown up now…you’ve been a kid this long…it’d be shame to grow up now.”     Something like that. And then I would majestically walk out and he’d either stop and say something…anything–or he’d watch me go and not give it a second thought. My biggest fear in this situation isn’t actually saying those things to him…it would be his reaction…reaction one would be preferable…anything he could say…even “I’m sorry…but I’m engaged…and I’m in love with her…” would feel more comforting than reaction two…he watches me leave and that is it…we are no more…for the rest of our lives I’ll wonder what could have been if only he hadn’t been engaged. I should do this though. No regrets. If I don’t tell him then I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.  Forever.” (7/23/04)

So here’s to no regrets. Ever. I hope you are happy, Paul. And I take comfort in the fact that if you don’t hunt me down, we probably won’t see each other again. And if I don’t see you, or hear from you, then I’ll take that to mean you’re happy.  I hope you are forever. 

Truly,

Katie

PS- Do you remember watching me dance in the rain on the 4^th of July a year ago, with my friend? I think about it every time it rains.

California – Phantom Planet

We’ve been on the run
Driving in the sun
Looking out for #1
California here we come
Right back where we started from 

Hustlers grab your guns
Your shadow weighs a ton
Driving down the 101
California here we come
Right back where we started from

California!
Here we come!

On the stereo
Listen as we go
Nothing’s gonna stop me now
California here we come
Right back where we started from
Pedal to the floor
Thinkin’ of the roar
Gotta get us to the shore
California here we come
Right back where we started from

Letter 1

Dear Paul,

Today I dropped out of NYU. I dropped out before I even started. It’s July 22 and classes don’t start until September 2. Well, for me they don’t start at all anymore. So I dropped out of NYU and am going to live at home for another year. 

You see I graduated from college in May. And all through my last year of college I applied to graduate programs. Wait, it begins before that. All through my sophomore and junior years of college I couldn’t figure out what the hell I wanted to do. So first I transferred from one school to another, changed my major, and studied abroad. Yeah. So then when I still couldn’t decide what an English/Theatre major with a love of film, music, knitting, and sex was going to do for a job…well I thought…more school will do the trick.

Only problem was I guess I thought I wanted to teach.

And maybe I do.

But not today.

So today I took my dual teacher certification program in Educational Theatre and English Education and through it out the window….flushed it down the toilet…left it in the gutter.

And then when I was done demolishing a year’s worth of hard work, hundreds of dollars in application fees, non-refundable deposits, gas money to get here to look for an impossible apartment….I went for coffee.

And then I started listening to Coldplay. 

And while I listened to Coldplay I made a list of all the things I want to do this year…this year while I take a “Leave of Absence” from NYU. And then when I had made my list I realized that what I really wanted to do was write. And I thought of you.

I thought of you and how I used to feel about you. And I thought about how when you finally disappeared it was to do the things with your life you had always dreamed. And I thought about how I saw you working in the mall a couple of weeks ago. 

I thought about how that was the first time I had seen you since I was 17 years old. And I’ve changed.

I think I’ve changed.

But then I thought about how even though I want to write…

No matter how fucking hard I try to write…

It starts and ends with an undelivered letter. An undelivered confession. An undelivered profession of love…to an engaged man. 

And so I thought to myself, “Self, why not write to Paul?” 

Because Paul, I could always tell you things I could never tell anyone else. I could always tell you because I never told you. Didn’t tell you my name or who I was or how I felt or why it mattered. Never told you about the hundreds of journal entries, the poems, the songs…

So you’re an easy audience. Because to you, I don’t exist.

And to me, your existence is essential without meaning a goddamn thing.

You’re like my muse. All floaty and unreal and mystical. And I can’t write a thing until I yell some pretty words at you and then it all comes out. It all comes out like I’ve been wanting to write this way everyday since I stopped writing and I forgot how because I forgot to put your name in front of it. And now like magic I sit down to write a letter and I write it all.

Easy.

Right?

So I dropped out of NYU before I started and Mom and Dad say they support me no matter what, but I can hear the disappointment in their voices. And since I’m still here, sitting in Starbucks, writing to you, I haven’t had to look them in the face yet. 

And then there are all the friends, family, and mentors who will find out. 

But Paul…I’m not scared and I’m not ashamed.

I made a list!! I made a list of what I want to do! 

I took it all back. All the doubts and fears and second thoughts I’ve had over the past 6-8 months….I acted on them! I took it all back. I unregistered for classes, I cancelled all my loans and I left my dead-end search for an apartment right where it fucking landed.

So now…I have a chance. I have a chance to figure it all out. To do it right this time. I have a chance to apply to the programs I want, I have a chance to learn how to be a bartender or to take a photography class or a journalism class or marry my boyfriend.

And the best part. NYU will still be there when I’m done.

Remember? 

It’s just a “Leave of Absence.”

Right?

Sincerely,

Katie