I wonder why my partner and roommate of one year wrote a love letter to an ex of two years prior, and let me read it. This word .docx populated with rosy memories, gentle language and subversive desire for response was my eviction notice. His words for her pushed me from our shared apartment, my relationship with a beloved cat, and eventually, from the muffled sadness that was our life. Muffled and ‘ours’ no more.
I wonder why I resisted the sinking feeling for two months. Perhaps it was a fear of being regarded in emotional inferiority that led me to mask the misery of love lost in jolliness to my friends, my family, my self. Public, digital personas of the online universe— the near and dear and the faraway and famous— shouted happiness at me. A synesthesia of sorts translated their bright, carefree smiles into a heard command: Do Not Sulk! It took two moons and two bottles of wine with a waxing crescent until I told them to fuck off.
I wonder for how long my sense of freedom and relief will be speckled with longing for the past. These days I desire to be only mine, but if I were honest with myself, I also desire to be desired. Moments flush with opportunity seem to be bookended by me staring at a notification-free phone. I should keep busy. I should read more. I should work more. Maximizing productivity is considered medicinal in this state of the heart, but my research into traditional Chinese medicine teaches instead of the healing effects of optimizing balance. The irony.
It is a wonder how the unspooling of these words have calmed me. Many have said wise words on the act of writing. The English playwright David Hare said, ‘The act of writing is the act of discovering what you believe.’ I believe I am fortunate that the end of my relationship coincided with the end of the data collection stage of my research. It is a life-event of boundless bounding, an in-between rich with creative force. This is the sense of wonder and these are the affects I am approaching with as I embark on writing the first draft of my M.A. thesis.
“You can approach the act of writing with nervousness, excitement, hopefulness, or even despair–the sense that you can never completely put on the page what’s in your mind and heart. You can come to the act with your fists clenched and your eyes narrowed, ready to kick ass and take down names. You can come to it because you want a girl to marry you or because you want to change the world. Come to it any way but lightly. Let me say it again: you must not come lightly to the blank page.”
—Stephen King
The search for truths continues. Thank you for indulging me!
Jenn Leah Ko 