ON VALENTINE’S DAY, 2015, I move from Momma and Dad’s house into my own apartment. I have far more space than ever. And it’s the first time my name is on a lease. Mine and only mine. My first night, sleeping on a brand new bed in my fiercely loved, ferociously personal space, I feel more peaceful and safe than ever before. No one can ask me to leave. Visitors arrive only if I invite them. I unpack and hang my line of cocktail dresses. I tuck my curling iron and makeup into drawers. I touch the mirror on the closet door and think, It has been nice to have this sabbatical. Our reflection smiles.
The apartment is enveloped in green innocence. Each room boasts large windows, plenty for you to choose from. The sun pours into each room. Here we are at last, the light-filled home I’ve longed for. In the living room, right in front of the main window, I place my desk, not the one from my sister’s bedroom, but a hand-me-down, pass-me-forward, a desk she used in middle school. On my desk, I sit my laptop and my journal. As the end of this journey approaches, I write my vows for the next few years. One is to use my voice to light the wicks of others. Another is a trip to Bangladesh and to Thailand, to visit the orphanage. I’d like to travel there, build, and write.
Today, as on all days, the sky keeps me company as I type. The beauty of the Oregon sky continues to undo me daily. Its magnificence is so rich it feels intentional, as though the colors and clouds know how to spill and spread to a mysterious design.
You and I, dear love, share this intuitive wisdom. We are each a sly seed poised for bloom. A revolution born to be ignited.
Our book is nearly complete. Writing it has felt like the most natural thing. Like someone called my name and I turned around. It makes sense. I’ve never had to look for you—you are always here. Thus, the words needed to fill our book haven’t needed hunting—they simply exist. So much has felt difficult. But not this.
Every day, I run around a nearby dazzling lake. While running, I marvel over a truth as apparent as the sky, a truth I imagine you may have realized as strongly as I have: I’ve had to live exactly as I have. Every wound, character, experience, and skill has been used, to fill into my purpose. To say “I am grateful” wouldn’t suffice. “I am in love” is more accurate.
I love what we have made, left to our own devices. When the world fails to provide the protector, healer, warrior, love, role, or opportunities we desire, we must genesis our own. Had I lived any differently, or been contracted to a man or a show, I wouldn’t have written this book. It all fits so seamlessly that I now believe you and I belong to a larger story, moving to its own wild wisdom, propelled by our fierce will to prevail. Together, we have fought to protect and free the once-baby flame of my voice from the harsh winds of life. Now, full fire, we rise.
Healing. Release. Freedom. Gratitude. Love. Darling friend, how we have grown.
I have been pondering, more than ever, our entwined reality. You are an extension of me, this book an extension of us. You are my loving advocate. Perhaps then, I am something similar for you. Perhaps you have a physical form as well, somewhere, and I am your invisible friend.
Beyond my desk are trees and solitude for as far as the eye can see. Should I want, I could live a quiet life, never returning to New York or the public stage. Love, our private world is so cozy and kind. But in my blood lives a pulse that cannot be muted. Mine is a soul that refuses to do anything in a hidden, small, or deferential way.
After all, I was born to be a voice for those without one. I’d be betraying my calling were I to live inside the safe, sheltered anonymity of a quiet, private life. Power only responds to power. I must use the wealth of all I’ve learned to illuminate the world’s darkness.
I will walk outside—on my terms. I am the spine of my life; only my name appears.
I look at today’s blazing sunset. Believing you can hear me, I speak aloud these words:
Look at the sky. When she wishes to explode in a fury of flamingo, peach, lavender, and indigo, she will. When she desires to be an expansive swatch of calm blue, she is. When she longs to spill oceans of rain, she follows her yearning.
The sky does not hesitate. Neither shall we.
I AM 31. Dear Love, I need to let you go.
Not entirely, but still. We have been two kids marveling, chasing, running from the storm. We have completed these thirty-one years. Now, you need to live your story, I need to live mine, each on our own.
I sit now on a grounded plane, about to fly to New York. My return. Passengers are filing in while I write.
Love, I will miss you. Momma and Dad tell each other about their day, their private intimacy so simple, rare, and exquisite that I cry. You are my closest incarnation of that sacred belonging one hopes to find. You, my imaginary best friend I never released. This book, our clear, unhurried line of love. You have helped me find what I’ve sought.
Thank you. Endlessly. The plane is now gathering speed, sprinting toward the horizon.
You have listened. You watched me grow. Pain, insecurity, trials, anger, confusion, the near-reckless desire to speak and be heard, to love and be loved deeply, these are our common specialties. Our fault lines are where our paths intersect, where your shards align with mine. Reasons to never feel less or better than anyone. Reasons to never feel alone.
How lovely that being human soothes the ache of being human.
I have lived a startling, beautiful life. I have survived and continued not because of confidence but because I have a confidante. Call thyself any name thou wish. Imaginary friend, art, muse, reader, guardian angel, higher self, inner voice, God. Your name matters little. What matters is I have always been able to call it, and you have always replied. You sprang from my need to feel love and give love. You, myself, this, we are a truth:
All I need, I have.
Hold onto that.
Now, tuck me away. You have been my person in the dark. Perhaps I have been yours. But now, love a warm body and love in the walking world. While I am sad we have completed these pages, I know we have only begun.
A formidable tomorrow, we soar now as a limitless sky.
I leave you with what we have always known. I am here. I love you. I am yours.