The End of It for the Evolution

Aloha readers.

This is a departure from myself. Rather, this is the piece that I am entering into the Austin Makes a Book collaboration.

Enjoy.

Dear Phil,

Today I am a writer. Today is a good day.

Yesterday I was your loving wife. Yesterday was a bad day.

I will start in the middle for you. We start in the middle of everything. There is no beginning. There is an end, but we don’t remember it.

The middle. That is what we are left with. We never know what we are getting into until we hit the middle. Until we hit the crossroad.

The crossroad makes you look back and gauge what has happened. Are you too far from the front to go back? Is moving forward just, easier?

I am stuck in the room of a house that is a trap. It is a trap of my existence. When this started it was to be marvelous.

That is the beauty of life.

The middle. That is where I am. I am stuck in this middle of the house. This middle of the street. This middle of Arizona.

I had a religion that I gave up when we met. It is Transcendentalism. I was a Romantic; you made me rational.

I know that I think too much. I know that I read too much. I know that I have lost connection with any human being. I know that the radio does not talk back. I know that I am losing my mind.

Know this, when you spend your life inside of a house filled with nothing but stale air, you lose any sense of the present.

I know you are confused with this Tom, but I am speaking directly to you. We have not spoken in months and I just need to get it all out.

This is what is called in the theatre industry as an opening monologue. I know this because I was once a writer.

I did not always study business Tom. I was a revolutionary.

I remember when life made so much more sense. I would just think and write and drink wine and smoke weed. Complain about everything that I knew nothing about and fall in Love with the most beautiful ideals of people.

I was special. Not many women were in the program. I was a rarity of existence, until I quit.

I wrote about my life. I wrote about my dreams. I wrote about the future, but it was all too scary.

Society tore me down to what I thought was the truth. The truth that being a writer, an artist, was a dream of a child. Foundation is needed; and creativity is not stable.

I broke. I tossed in the towel, but told myself I would still write everyday.

I found myself in Love with you, Tom, a software technician. You had me settle. I stopped growing. I stopped writing. I was content with being muted for you.

I just needed a break from living for a while. You were that break. I was content with being muted for you.

That was six years ago. I have not been attracted to you for the past five and a half.

I am moving to Austin. This is to be good-bye.

You will see the divorce papers under this letter.

Please just sign where the little sticky pointers are. You will see that I want nothing.

This is not your fault, I am just not the woman you fell in Love with. She was a fraud.

Hey, we gave it a shot. This is your clean canvas.

Sincerely,

Kathleen

P.S. Tomorrow I am going to be a Freshman again. Tomorrow is unknown and that’s the beauty of it.