Date: Sunday, August 1, 2025
Mood: Paralyzed
Music: Gravity by Sara Bareilles
Dear Richard,
I haven't left the house in two days. Levi thinks I have a migraine. I’ve been lying in the dark, listening to audiobooks, trying to get my heart rate to slow down.
It happened at a coffee shop on Melrose on Tuesday.
I was just sketching. There was a couple at the table next to me. Young. Maybe late twenties. They were whispering, but the tone was all wrong.
Then the guy stood up. He slammed his hand on the table.
"I can't do this anymore!" he shouted. "You’re suffocating me!"
The girl started sobbing. "Please," she begged, reaching for his hand. "Please don't leave. We can fix it."
"There is no 'we'!" he yelled. "It’s over!"
He stormed out. The girl put her head on the table and wailed.
The sound of her crying... it physically hit me. My vision blurred. My hands started shaking so violently I dropped my charcoal.
I wasn't in Los Angeles. I was back in Ohio, 2010. I was back on the phone with you. I was hearing my own voice begging. “Please, Richard. I’m begging you. Don't do this.”
I was back in the moment where I realized that begging doesn't work.
I couldn't breathe. I left my coffee. I ran to my car and dry-heaved in the parking lot.
It’s been fifteen years, and I am still so fragile that a stranger’s breakup can shatter me. I am walking around with a glass heart, Richard. Levi thinks I’m steady. He thinks I’m healed. He has no idea that one raised voice can send me spiraling back to the day you told me to fuck off.
I’m not healed. I’m just hiding the wound better.
Love always,
Taylor