As a sort-of followup to yesterday’s entry, here’s a potential letter from Rin that may appear later.
My letters have always been important to me. They’re a part of who I am. They’re a part of my self-definition: I, Rin, have beautiful handwriting. That’s a fact that I accept about myself now, because I spent hours and years making it true. I crafted my handwriting to be what it is. One of my biggest regrets is that I could never craft myself to be as perfect.
I have never been a beautiful woman. I know that you would disagree, out loud, but if I could peer into your mind I don’t know what truth I would witness there. You fell for me, for some reason. I don’t know why. You’ve always been more handsome than I am beautiful. From the very first moment I caught you looking at me, I doubted that you actually saw something in me. I thought you must have been desperate, for some reason, or that you were settling.
Over time those doubts sort of faded into the background. You seemed faithful and earnest. When you said you loved me, I believed you. When you said I was beautiful, well, maybe I didn’t exactly believe you, but I accepted that maybe you believed it. Even after six years I still liked to watch you sleep, because I found you so incredibly attractive.
You were out of my league. I never quite got over that. I just felt lucky, you know? That someone so much better looking than me could fall for me. That someone so handsome could accept me as his wife, and as his partner. I loved you so, so much. You made me feel lucky.
In the end, though, I wasn’t enough for you. Was I? It took you six years, but you finally realized that you were worth someone more attractive than me. It took me time to realize it. I doubted it at first. Well, I tried to. I actually believed far too quickly and easily that you were falling for Birch. My insecurity has always been one of my biggest failings, so I tried to dismiss what I was sure I was perceiving as something that had been manufactured in my own mind..
I didn’t make it up. I was right. You were falling for Birch. In a lot of ways, my relationship with you echoes my friendship with him. It’s odd, I guess, because he’s male. We shouldn’t have been competing for the same people to be attracted to us, and I guess we weren’t, but I always felt like we were because he was gay.
He was the cute one, in high school. I felt that deep in my bones: he was more attractive than me. I felt the same sort of things toward him that I feel toward you. I was lucky that he was my friend. I never felt attractive enough for someone as cute as him to give me their friendship. Like you, he dismissed my concerns. He said I was beautiful. He said it was all in my head, and that he didn’t feel like he was attractive at all. He said I was too kind to him, and too hard on myself.
Well, now the two beautiful people from my life have each other, and I’m nothing. Do you remember how sad I was, when Birch didn’t come to our wedding? I understood, in a way, what was happening to him. I knew that Van wasn’t good for him, and I tried hard not to blame Birch for what he did while under Van’s thumb. That didn’t work very well. I still resented him, and blamed him for his weakness. I was upset. I cried on our wedding day that he wasn’t there.
Now I’m happy that I wasn’t. Maybe it’s selfish of me, but I am. I’m glad he wasn’t there, because then you would have met him sooner, and I wouldn’t have had those years with you to myself. I would have lost you sooner, to someone better than me. He is better than me, isn’t he? You both are. That’s why you prefer him. He’s a better fit for you. He’s more on your level.
I’m sorry for wasting your time.