I just did Pilates, so I thought I would take advantage of all the endorphins flowing through my brain by writing to you. It’s been a while, and you don’t write—ever, not even once—so I guess it’s up to me to do it.
I’m smiling now. I feel so high. And you know I don’t do drugs, so that must mean something. Anyway, I thought that this would be a good time to tell you that when we were going out, the thing is, I actually did love you. Surprise! I didn’t tell you because it probably would have ruined everything. But now that it’s all over, I guess there’s no harm.
I loved you. I still kind of do.
It’s not a big deal. Don’t feel like you have to say anything. I just want to put it on the record while I still sort of mean it. Because the thing is, recently, I’ve been getting better. I haven’t been crying as much. I’ve been doing Pilates. Today, I cried a little while doing Pilates. But once I started working up a sweat, the endorphins came rushing back and made the tears go away. I even smiled in wonder at my own resilience. At last! Now I know that when I want to stop crying, I just need to do Pilates.
I feel so healthy. People always say that exercise is the best cure. Now I get it. Now I know what they mean. Because I did Pilates, I feel as though I can say this to you and not really care if you feel the same way, or ever felt the same way, or would have felt the same way had I been slightly more palatable all of the time.
The thing is, I like variety too. I was looking forward to meeting new people. But every time I meet somebody, I find myself wanting to tell you about him. Especially if he’s an idiot or has stupid hair. Then I feel like calling you and yelling at you for having more fun than me.
But here’s the thing: it’s all within my control. I can decide to take pleasure in things and people that are not you. Like that law student, or Pilates.
You’ve probably never had to think thoughts like this. You probably think I’m dependent. I am not. Loving you and depending on you are not the same thing. I love you. That does not mean that I want to see you all the time or talk to you every day the way I would if I were really a loser. All it means is that I miss the remote notion that you could be thinking about me. It’s not fair that you aren’t thinking about me right now. You are probably thinking about someone whose yoga mat is not stained with tears. This is an unbearable thought.
I am writing this to you because I’m in a good place. It would be terrible if I wrote this to you when I was drunk. I’m not drunk. I am sitting on my yoga mat, glowing with the explosive radiance of millions and millions of endorphins crowding out every negative impulse with the purest joy. I plan on doing this every day until the endorphins completely crowd you out.
That day can’t come soon enough. Some of the students have complained, and the Pilates instructors are concerned that I’m a liability.