Sincerely, Your friend, Owen Day.

“Hey, Doc, it’s me, Owen. Just checking in again. It’s been awhile since we last spoke. Listen, I have to talk to someone. It happened again, Doc. I fell in love. I really thought she was the one. I felt it in my soul. She still lives in my mind and bones. You know how it goes . . . But it really did happen again. And I fucked it all up. I am unlovable. I am not capable of being in a relationship. I am so shit at loving someone. I am terrible at trusting someone. I love from fear. I don’t love from love. Does that make sense? Loving from fear isn't really loving at all, is it? . . . I didn’t think so. It’s been three years since you and I last spoke. It feels like I’ve lived five different lives during that time. But, have I actually changed at all, Doc? I still don’t know how to be in love. I feel as if I’ve died . . . Have I? Am I still alive, Doc? Am I still me? Am I still here? Nothing makes sense since she left me. Nothing feels the same. I’m not me anymore. ‘The Writer’ is fading. ‘The Fighter’ is gone. I am still so shit at playing the guitar. I don’t have the motivation to exercise. I can barely get through work. And I have a good job now, Doc. I work with disabled kids, teens and adults. It should be fun. It should be . . . How does a man deal with rejection again? . . . Yeah, well, I pushed her away this time. I doubt she’ll ever come back . . . And I doubt I’ll ever apologize. I wish I would, though. I really wish I could apologize, Doc, but I am trying to let her go. I am trying to detach. I am trying hard to be okay. I am trying to push her away. But today . . . and yesterday, I wasn’t that okay. How do I let her go, Doc? How do I learn to love her less? . . . Something inside of me has died. Something is dying . . . What is it, Doc? What is it that’s dying inside of me? Do I let it die? Do I let her go? Or do I hold onto hope? . . . I wish you’d pick up the bloody phone. I wish you weren’t sick . . . I wish Sara was still practicing. I’ve pushed away all of my friends. I keep everyone at a distance, even my family. I haven’t changed . . . Why do we love anything at all, Doc? It hurts so much when it’s over. Is the joy really worth the pain? Do I let her go? Do I move on? Or do I love her as well as I can? What’s the move here, Doc? . . . I can’t believe you only have a year to live . . . It so fucked up, Doc. Why does it have to be this way? I try to be a good man but life constantly rewards me with big piles of hot turds. Here I am complaining about my life while you are dying. How selfish am I? Can you please call me back? I know you listen to these voice messages. What else do you have going on? Give me a ring between sponge baths. You don’t have to spare me from the pain of losing you. Being ignored by you while you are alive hurts way more than grieving you when you are gone will be . . . Do you remember how I used to believe that the idea of soulmates was a bunch of bullshit? Yeah, I think I found one of my soulmates, Doc. Our souls were tied. But now it feels as if I died. She was so much more than I ever imagined a person could be. She was magic. And then she turned on me. She was so warm before she turned ice cold. She made me so many promises that turned out to be lies. She was so beautiful, but so ugly at the same time. She lied, Doc . . . She lied to me over and over again. And I didn’t hold my boundaries. I didn’t stick to my standards. I got so lost in her. I couldn’t tell where I begin and she ends—where I end and she begins. How do I trust someone after this? How can I ever love again? Her heart was so sweet and dark. I think she just used me to get her ex to want to change for her. I think she just used me for attention. I think she used me for validation. I think she faked it all. I really think that, Doc. I really believe that’s the true story here. She got what she needed from me and then sent me packing. How do I recover from this? She never loved me, did she? Hell, I doubt she even knew me. She and I both loved from a place of fear. And that isn’t love at all . . . I know everything is impermanent, I just wanted more time with her. I really wanted fifty or so years with her . . . I thought she and I had real potential. I wanted to heal with her, cause God knows I am fucked up, too. I wanted us to grow together. We could’ve faced everything together. We would’ve fought and fucked nonstop. It would’ve been wild. And hot. And I would’ve gotten incredible poetry from it. We would’ve fucked and fought nonstop. Now I won’t ever speak to her again. How did this happen? Why did this happen? We went from lovers to strangers overnight. I never thought I’d love again after Kelley died, Doc . . . And then I met Danielle. She helped me believe in love again, just to crush that belief. She helped me believe in myself again, just to crush that belief, as well. She made me want to be a better man for her. Now I just want to sleep. Our connection was so beautiful, Doc. We shared: music, poetry, movies, books, memories, dreams, food, stories, jokes, and so much more, Doc. Don’t even get me started on the sex. Your old ears would probably perk up a little too much if I told you about the sex here. So I’ll leave it to your imagination. She ignited my heart like no one ever has before. She taught me what it means to really love someone with all of your heart and soul. Then she became so cold . . . Then she chose someone else. Then she broke her promises. She broke our trust . . . Why did she do that, Doc? I really want to live with her by my side. I tried to love her well. I really did. I forgave her. I stayed after she pushed me away. I waited for her to come back, but instead, she moved on. She tossed me aside like trash. I’m not trash, Doc . . . I’m not trash, Doc, am I? How can someone that loves you toss you aside like that? How can someone go back to what broke them? If her last relationship was so shitty—and our connection was so magical—then why would she go back to what was so shitty for her? Unless she thought that our relationship would end up worse than her last one? . . . What does that say about me? If she wants to go back to the man who took her for granted, then what does that say about me? Am I worse than he? Do I love her less than he does? Why would she lead me on for so long if she was always going to choose him? Why did she hurt me so badly when she said that she loved me? Did she ever love me, Doc? . . . Was any of it real? Does she just want his money and security? Did she just want to go back to what was more comfortable and less challenging? I know I sound pathetic . . . Why does it feel like I am waiting to attend my own funeral? What is it that’s dying inside of me? And . . . Why do you have to die, Doc? . . . I still need you. I still need her. I still need Kelley. I still need my family. How do we let go of the people we love? I hope you aren’t in too much pain . . . One year, Doc. How’s it feel to have one year left to live? How am I supposed to attend your funeral? Why is everything and everyone dying? Fuck that White rabbit, Doc. I’m so confused. I’m so lost. I want time to stop . . . I want to go back. And I want you to write me back. I am unwell. Please, just once or twice before you go, can we talk?”

Sincerely, 

Your friend, Owen Day.

-OD 2/27/26