Hero-Tape 2

(Beep. Music fades in.)

You’re the only reason I haven’t deleted my Facebook profile yet. And I recognize there’s a lot of not-great stuff to unpack there. Facebook is just an endless pit of despair in so many ways, so it is definitely in my best interest to disengage. This isn’t even a debate about the merits of the social side of the internet. What it does to or for everyone else is irrelevant. It wrecks my mind and pulls me down. Very far down. 

My girlfriend pointed this out to me. And she’s been on the front lines, witnessing my descents and suffering for them. Her opinion really needs to be the only one that matters. 

But then there are these rare moments of joy, glimmers in the void. Like this week when you shared that lecture you did. The one that was recorded and put on YouTube. I’m glad I saw that. I needed it. To me, it was a break from a difficult week, the type that roots itself in the experience of a genuine sanctuary. That’s what you were to me. And a part of that--the part that has stuck with me the most--is your voice. It’s just so distinct.

I listen to it in my mind from time to time, by replaying the things you said to me: the supportive words, the attempts to give me strength. But sometimes I can’t get those tapes to play. Like now. It just isn’t working. The lecture helped. 

So thank you for sharing that.

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

It’s been so long since I was last on campus. My visits were always ill-advised, and so, they had to be timed out almost perfectly. And that’s the problem. The timing just isn’t falling into place like I would need. Not easily, anyway. I could always force it.

And it’s not that I can’t justify the effort; it would be wonderful to see you. But going out that way is hard to do. For one, the fear and anxiety start to eat me away. And that’s painful. It’s a pain that’s hard to recover from. It can take days, maybe even weeks. All just to return to a semblance of my usual self. I can’t bring everything to a halt that long. Particularly right now.

  And it’s hard enough for my girlfriend as it is. At least, I can do some things for myself and us in this state. Like cook. I do all the cooking for us. Even if, without fail, I end up making an explosion-type mess in the kitchen. And she does all the cleaning, so it’s not exactly fair. But she thinks she needs to be the one who cleans. She’s better at it than I am, and she is utterly convinced that keeping our living area orderly is going to help me. A cluttered and chaotic space is only going to aggravate certain things… problems…

Not the dreams, though. Other things.

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

Those just happen to be the things you were most afraid of. You don’t believe in the dreams, but there are plenty of other monsters lurking about. And those you know are real. You’ve seen them. You took it on yourself to help me conquer them. Who else would have done so, right?

I don’t mean to be so flippant, but you undertook a challenge that no one else would consider. And I’m grateful for that. It was a gift whose value I can’t articulate. And I’ve tried. Over and over again. I’ve tried to thank you, to convey the sense of gratitude that I rightfully hold. I’ve said it, I’ve sent you letters, and I’ve given you gifts, but none of it has ever seemed like enough.

Because my entire life now, every last bit of it, is made up of the product of your labor. I wouldn’t have any of this without you. You got me here. You laid down the necessary foundation and worked out all the imperfections in the material. I have to thank you for quite literally everything. And that’s pretty hard to do. It’s just a lot. And an itemized list is only more intimidating.

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

I record these tapes when my girlfriend is out. She takes these language classes to finish what she started in college, as she explains it. She is determined to be absolutely fluent in Italian. You see, she loves this particularly book series that takes place in Italy. So learning the language is a way of diving deeper into that world, into the story that, as she puts it, helped make her who she is.

Recently, I read those books. And I’ve come to love that series, too. Admittedly, not because of the author’s style, that’s rather tedious, but I love them for the work they did in creating her. I can’t put a value on that.

Look, I never meant for this to happen. Even when I first fell in love with her, there was this sense in which I knew not to pursue her. For her sake. True love is willing good for the other person, and I just couldn’t see how being with me would do her any good. Being my partner brings so many complications and problems to someone’s life. And she is delicate. She is beauty. She is the embodiment of all human goodness: the parts of our nature that need to be preserved. And I’m risking all of it simply to bask in her warmth.

I mean, she doesn’t want to leave. She fell in love with me, but do I have the responsibility of correcting what could be a critical mistake? Is it selfish to hang on because of the joy and hope she brings me? Am I wrong to take them?

Sometimes I don’t think so. But then I think about the terror on her face when I wake up from a dream as she leans over me, trying to bring it to an end to it despite all the nights when her efforts proved useless. I mean maybe it would different that night, she would think. Or so I imagine. We don’t talk about those nights.

But I see the way the blood drains from her face to be replaced by fear and fear alone. Her distress pairs well with an old memory of mine. That frequent rebuke.

“Don’t be selfish,” I would always hear.

Above all, you wanted me to realize that selfishness and self-preservation couldn’t be equated. They weren’t the same thing. Sure, they might have a similar core in the same way that siblings share parents, but there’s still a distinction there. Two different entities despite the similarities.

That metaphor is nice, but it isn’t perfect. And that’s not your fault. You did the best you could when you had to come up with something on the fly. And I’m sure it would work better with anyone else, but everything is just so much more complicated with me. 

And that’s why I think I need to get to the root of these dreams, even if pushing deeper into this madness is ill-advised. I know you don’t want me to do it is what I’m saying. You want me to disengage, to pull away from the fire before I burn up. And I hear you.I hear all your words, and for them, I am grateful, but I can’t. That won’t work. It hasn’t worked before. Now, I need to do this.

This isn’t about your colleague. I promise. I have gotten all your messages. I just don’t know how to respond. I know everything is fine, that you covered the course load for a much needed sabbatical to work on those problems. And for that, once again, I’m grateful. For all of it, I’m grateful, and I hear you. But there are more dreams than that. And they keep coming. And frankly, I’m not even getting the worst of it anymore. My girlfriend is. She who loves and dotes on me. Who cleans our home and holds me when I’m scared shake. She’s the one who suffers for it. 

And it’s gotten so much worse lately. The dreams are more intense and frequent. What if this is part of a larger trend? What should I do? I have to protect her, right?

While, there’s a faint voice in my mind telling me I need to break it off with her, to cut her losses and let her be free, there’s a louder part of me, all of me in fact, that is screaming that at the very least, I have to make the dreams stop. To protect her from them. To keep us both from being eaten away.

I hope you understand.

(Music fades out.)

Please forgive me for whatever needs to be forgiven. Please trust that I’m doing what I need to do. After all, there’s parts of this story that you don’t know. That she doesn’t know. That no one knows. I’ve always been good at keeping my secrets. But now, I need to tell them. I need to put this all together.

(Beep.)