Again Kieu Oi

My dear Kieu, I am writing to you today, my old friend, and it feels strange and familiar all at once. So much time has passed, and yet here I am, reaching out because your face came to my mind and I needed to talk to someone who once knew me so well.

Kieu, how are you, em? It has been a long while, hasn't it? Yes, it has. The years have a way of slipping by, filled with the noise of everyday life, until you suddenly stop and realize how much has changed and how much has been lost.

I know it is sad that every time I think of you, it's when life isn't great for me. Please don't think that means I only remember you in hard times. It’s more that in these moments of confusion, my mind searches for a safe harbor, and it often finds its way back to the memory of your friendship.

I don't know what I'm doing, Kieu. I feel like I am failing at the most basic human skill: seeing the truth. Lately, I have been a very poor judge of character. With all my degrees, my education, and my professional experience, I thought I would be better at this. I thought I was smarter than this. But it just keeps getting worse every day, and I feel myself falling into a pattern of trust and error that is terrifying.

The hardest truth I am facing is that I put my family—the most important thing in my life—at risk. I did it for a relationship that turned out to be nothing but a shame, a hollow echo of what I thought was there. I invested my emotions, my time, and my belief into somebody who had no capacity to recognize it, no ability to value it. I put my family on the line and my marriage on the line for it. And for what in return? I keep asking myself that question, and I don't know. I have no answer, only this heavy feeling of lost.

To add salt to the injury, the one guy who I put so much effort into knowing—so much money into, and so many shared visions into—turned out to be just a fast-talker, a chipmunk, who has no idea what he is doing. He moves through the world with a confidence he hasn't earned, thinking he understands, but he has no real focus, no depth. Sometimes I look at him and I wonder what his reason for existence is, beyond the basic acts of breathing, eating, and sometimes being capable of fucking. Yes, I chose the word correctly, and I don't use it often, but it is exactly how I feel at the moment. It feels crude, but it feels true.

In my quieter moments, I lie awake and wonder, what is God's plan for me as of this moment? I am so far beyond belief. I'm so hurt, Kieu. The pain isn't a sharp sting; it's a constant, dull ache that makes everything feel heavy. I just want to ball up and scream, to let it all out, but I don't even know how anymore. It’s like I’ve forgotten the mechanism for my own release. I sometimes wonder, are these experiences and these difficult people part of a plan God has for me to endure? Is this a test?

I remember a saying that God only gives tests to those who have the capacity to handle them. But I don't know how long, Kieu. I don't know how long I can last under this weight. I'm really at my wit's end. I feel like I am standing in the middle of a storm, and everyone else is watching from the safety of their windows, and nobody can help me. Nobody can reach into this chaos and pull me out.

Just writing this to you, imagining you reading it, brings me a small sense of comfort. It makes me feel less alone in my head. Thank you for listening to me, even if it's just in this letter. I will keep doing my best, because that is all there is left to do.

With love, Tuan