Yep. This is the end. If you got this far, I thank you. As Orpheus would say: waaaaaaaaait for me. Terrible joke, I'm sorry. Moving on.
This is Elizabeth, if you hadn't guessed from the e-email address. It's been a while, hasn't it? I think so. Since we last spoke it feels like one hundred years have passed by. And, in a certain way, that is correct.
I just thought you'd like to know what happened. Maybe I shouldn't be writing any of this, but here I am. I thought a lot about what you said to me. About me being free and not really owning it. I've always considered myself to be such a strong woman, you know? You telling me that I was not at my full potential wasn't easy to take in. I wasn't hurt or mad at you. You just gave me a lot to think about, I think you know what I mean.
I got home that day and told Will everything was ok. I never said, but he was the one who encouraged me to talk to you in the first place. He thought we should clear things out, because we have "too much history" (his words, not mine). He regretted doing this after some time, but we'll get there.
Things were ok, in theory. I was feeling better. I wasn't feeling like my chest would explode or shrink. I could look my husband in the eyes and tell him I loved him without ever wondering if I loved anyone more. It was liberating, and then it wasn't.
When we had that fight about Angelica (sorry for being so irrational about that, by the way), I talked to Hector. He's a very good listener, surprisingly. He told me I was still in love with you, and one of the arguments he used to convince me was to point out that I thought about you everyday. I really did. I often wondered what you were doing, or where you would be at a certain time of the day. Things would remind me of you. Songs. Smells. And this hadn't changed.
One day I woke up and saw a post of yours on Instagram. It was a photo of you on a beach, and it was the middle of the week. I looked at the picture longingly. I didn't really understand what I was feeling. I had made my choice, I was at peace with the decision of not being with you, then why all of these feelings? Why couldn't I stop thinking of you? And then it hit me.
You know, Jack. You weren't wrong. We really are the same. I envy you. Or did, I guess. I thought of you so much not because I wanted to be with you. But because I wanted to be you. I wanted to have your life. I wanted to travel anywhere I wanted anytime I wanted. I wanted to go out with as many people as I liked and not feel guilty about it. People talk too much, you know? They always assume. Specially if we're under the public eye, such as myself. The so-called fans can be quite cruel when they want to. So when I made it public that I'd divorce Will they came at me with full strength. You probably saw the tabloids. That's one of the reasons why I disappeared, too. Also, I needed time. For me and from me.
I went sailing. The sea always calms me. You called me a pirate, and maybe that's true.
I got your e-mails and your texts. I just didn't want to talk to you at that moment. I want to let you know that I'm doing fine. Really, I am. I feel like I'm the captain of my own ship for the first time in a very long time. It feels amazing.
I hope you're doing ok yourself. I read somewhere that the latest album you produced was a huge hit. I'm happy for you. Will and I are fine. We haven't talked much, but I didn't think it would be different. I broke his heart. I just hope he doesn't bury it in a chest and hide it forever. He is such a great man, Jack. I love him, deeply. I guess I always will.
Part of me will always love you, too. A wild part. A crazy part. The part that wants to get drunk every night and dance until my feet hurt. I love this part. I've supressed it for too long, now I let it out every once in a while. I'll never be you, I found out. But I love going a little Jack Sparrow sometimes.
I miss you. Maybe someday we can sail together.