Speaking from experience, what you're feeling about turning 20 isn't going to go away. That is how your twenties feel. That isn't just anticipation. That is the object itself. I completely get it, though. It is scary. It'll get magical in spurts, I promise. But I share the fear that comes with that to this day. It feels like everybody is infinitely fucking smarter than you; they have plans they've thought out the steps for, they're interesting and will be impressive when they inevitably follow through with them, and you'll feel incapable of that. Fear will turn to resentment, and you'll say things you'll wish you hadn't (I know you already have), and remembering that you are still a good person - a thing you will be in constant doubt of - will be inconceivable. It's rough, blind sledding. But it can be fun, though. I promise.
Don't worry about how lame and embarrassing telling me about doing drugs might be. I'm a single, white, college-aged dude, and I've gotten drunk almost every night since I moved. How's that for lame and embarrassing? I've decided I'm done drinking and smoking for at least a month, though. It's been too long since I've had longer than one or two weeks stone-cold sober, which is lame and embarrassing to admit. But it's the truth, and that's a thing I promised myself I would face up to more up here. I also promised Bl--- that I would join them in sobering up, too.
It's been nice talking to you on my end, too. It's become a bit of an in-joke between E--- and I whenever we have people over (which has been every day) to suggest to one another to call you. It is because I would like for you to be there, even if it's been a revolving door of indie dudes, with the exception of N----- and Sh---a. Everybody loves you. You're always welcome in Edmonton. YEGWAVE!
I'm currently on the LRT back from an impulsive trip downtown, where I found nothing but old guys smoking cigarettes in the complete dark in a vacant parking lot and the Scientology center. I'm a thorough country boy, as you know, so public transit is completely unfamiliar to me. So are living by tall buildings, hipsterdom, constant noise, thick 40-minute traffic, not having parking or parents, paying rent, and everything being in walking distance from me. It's a rush.
I'm at one of the best universities in Canada. It's also one of the largest - forty-one fucking thousand kids, not mentioning faculty and building staff. That's double most Ivy League schools. And everyone here is dressed to kill. They're are well-to-do and emphatically upper middle class: sweater vests, Lululemon bags, Stanley water bottles, MacBook Pros, determined expressions, STEM degrees. It's the capital-U University experience. I look the part, but do not fucking feel like, to be honest. I have no impulse to pack up and return home with my tail between my legs, but these last few days have bludgeoned me with self-doubt. I'm trying to keep my head up, but it seems Sisyphean. I'm endlessly psyched to be in Edmonton though. Don't get it twisted. The last two years of my life have been spent pining to get here. I just am struggling not to hate myself, you know?
Sh---a is over for the night, hence why I am out on the town. I try to keep my distance from her and E--- because of common sense, but I like seeing them together. He lights up whenever she's around. It's really sweet. There's this tension that lifts from his face when he sees Sh---a. It's like he's pleasantly surprised to run into his favourite person while out and about. He immediately stumbles into giggling whenever he talks with her. He's always trying to remind her of something that he or she thinks is funny. Sh---a, on the other hand, is somewhat imperceptible emotionally, and I don't say this to cast her as a bitch. She's far from it. I like her a lot. But - and this is between you and me - sometimes she seems to not get the message E--- is trying to send. I don't mean that in the sense that she's missing it. It's worse than that. It can feel like dhe doesn't feel the same way as E---, and I don't blame her for it. I've been where she is before. But relationships on the rocks make me impossibly sad, especially these days. I wish them both the best.
Obviously you-know-who has been on the brain constantly since I got here. My friends are all too aware of that, as we've drunkenly talked about them nightly. I've tried to work through that while putting them to the background of my thoughts, despite how much they mean to me. But it's been hard, obviously.
My friends - the ones that were closest to me at the time - despise them. Words like "monstrous" and "manipulative" have been thrown around in the many they-were-never-right-for-me conversations, which are jarring to hear after spending so many months holding them to the highest esteem despite my better judgement. It makes me never want to try to love again, even if that's not an option for someone like me. I happened to see their brother the other day at Ikea. I was the only boyfriend they had that he liked. He was with some girl - some friend, I assume. My dad was yelling at my mom over the phone, the lone person to do so at the store. Given how much of a hot-button topic my family was to J---, this display made me want to blow my fucking head off. I was on my way to see J--f and the boys, which I was too excited for to let me completely sink into feeling like ass.
The nights have been wonderful. The spot has been my place, which is by far the biggest space belonging to my quickly expanding group of friends that's also a stone's throw away from our university. No one has anywhere to be for the first time all summer, with classes days away and so the last few days have been spent aimlessly hanging out, watching YouTube, freestyle rapping, confessing dark secrets, walking around, going Baby Mode, truly believing that this city is ours. There's a feeling in the air that this will last for years. "YEGWAVE," the handle of a Edmonton culture Instagram, has been adopted by Ju----, N-----, and I as an in-joke we shout at each other to secretly convey to everyone our arrival. It's become a genuine chant, like a white boy "inshallah." Despite my suffocating anxieties and nascent loneliness, I believe in YEGWAVE. If this is your Autumn of Yearning, this is it for me. I yearn for YEGWAVE.
I feel like nobody wants me either, Madison. I know how you feel. I don't know if you feel like nobody should want you either, though. I do. It's made me try to exist in the background as much as possible, despite my occasional drunkenly laughing at sketchy strangers who say they're going to mug me (this actually happened). I've started referring to myself as "the wife" to E---, "one of the worst things [I've] ever said," apparently. I try to check in on everyone, asking how they're feeling, if they're hungry or thirsty, etc. I've been cleaning up obsessively. I've noticed I'm significantly more tidy than E---. Despite my usual impulses to carry myself as a class clown, I've made an effort to be more sincere, telling people directly that I like something or I'm glad to see/meet them, etc. But nothing's cutting it, especially when there are attractive people around. I know it's a new city, and I'm not so bad, but I still have a hunch that I'm unlovable, despite everything.
I sincerely miss you, especially now that I'm over way my data limit trying to send this to you. "Mississippi Swells" has been stuck in my head. I sing it like a prayer, thinking of younger us years ago, fearing and dreaming of nights like this one. I'm more alone that I have ever been. I belong for the first time ever. I'm further away than ever before. I think of you thousands of kilometers away, in another country, thinking about me. I'm yearning, too.
I love you, Madison. I think we really are back.
P.S. Those bits about those cishet boys were really funny. You are really funny.
