Dear Jake Barnes,

I wish I could tell you how much I crave you, how I go through withdrawal every time you leave me, and how I stare at my pillow at night worrying about you. I wish I could hold you instead making my back stiff like the wall between us. I wish I could be close to you without hurting you. I wish I were a better person. I wish I knew whether I loved you, or whether I'm like Brett, who "only wanted what she couldn't have."

I know I could be everything you want from a woman, but I don't know whether I should be. I want to solve your problems as your aide-de-camp, your sponsor, your helpmate. I wish life weren't so complicated: I wish I could be yours and you could be mine forever and ever.

Jake's parting words in The Sun also Rises are so like us:

"Oh, Jake," Brett said, "we could have such a damned good time together."
Ahead was a mounted policeman in khaki directing traffic. He raised his baton. The car slowed suddenly pressing Brett against me.
"Yes," I said. "Isn't it pretty to think so?"

Maybe someday I'll get over you, but I'm not sure. I may still wait for you on shores of the sea of glass. You, unknowing unripe one, have part of me.