The sun is rising, and I feel full of hope.

I just stayed up all night. And to you few dedicated readers of this dear old blog, that will come as no surprise. "We've been hearing about you staying up all night all freakin' week, Satpreet." Well, patience, dear friends, because I do have some noteworthy news: I did not cry. That is right. I did not cry. I almost cried three times, but no tears welled up dangerously, my voice did not crack, my lips did not tremble (very much). I did not cry.

And I was not alone. I stayed up all night talking to someone who I have not seriously talked to in about two years. Someone who I have not even seen in one or one and a half years. Someone who I have not even talked to on the phone. And yet, it was the same tonight as it is every time we get together -- we just click. We just click, and we just understand each other so deeply and without any effort.

Debra Warren, I love you. I have talked to so many people about relationships, love and heartbreak over the past week or so. So. Many. People. And there are so many different kinds of relationships and love, that it is hard to take advice from someone who does not know your kind of relationship, or your kind of love. But Debra knows. Almost to a tee, she knows how I love you. How I have loved you, and how I will continue to love you.

And she understood my lack of anger, my lack of spite and my lack of just general negative feelings. She understood why I feel just so deeply, deeply sad, not only for myself, but for you. I think about you and what you must be going through, and I feel so sad. I feel so sad that I cannot be there to hug you or to help you talk things out or just to hold your hand and squeeze it tight every once in awhile. And she knows that feeling.

We talked about so many things. For about nine hours we talked, first in a group and then by ourselves. And I feel like I understand better what you are going through. And I know that you still love me. That you are still in love with me. That you don't want to do this anymore than I do. And that nothing we experienced over the past four years is a sham, no matter what happens from here on out (something I've had so much trouble understanding for so long). 

I know that you are confused. And doubting. And stressed and pressured and depressed and so many other things. That you are so overwhelmed. But I want you to know that I believe in you. I believe in your goodness and your strength and your passion in music, in God, in teaching and in humanity. I believe in you, James. And after everything, I still believe in us. I do. Even if you might not right now or ever again. 

I just hope that you have someone to talk to who understands our love, who doesn't undermine our respect and connection and the great, indescribable depth and breadth of our relationship. I hope you have someone to talk to. Someone to help you like Debra helped me. With no judgment, no selfish intent, no preconceived notion of your capacity to love -- only with the sincere intent to help you figure out what is best for you.