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Dear Jonas,
Is that the proper way to start a letter? I don’t really know. I never write letters. I don’t write much, to be honest. Not even in Slovenian. Maybe I would feel braver if I wrote this in Slovenian. But then, you wouldn’t understand much of it. Which is not that important, though, because I don’t plan on sending this.
Anyway. I’m diverging. Is that the right word? God, I’m so bad at this. Talking about... Feelings. Because that’s what it’s about, by the way. My feelings. For you. They’re everywhere. I try really hard to drown them. And it should be easy, because I’m always super busy. Races, training camps. You know how it gets. I should be exhausted, at the end of the day. But my mind keeps sending me to dangerous places and I’m afraid I will explode if I keep everything inside.
My therapist told me it was a good idea to write about it. See, I’m really mature! Everyone says I’m like a wild child but I’m not always like that. I wish you would know about this. About the real me. Then maybe, just maybe, you would talk to me. Really talk to me. Not just polite conversations at the start of a race. It doesn’t really count. You do it with everyone.
Sorry, I’m being petty. It’s not your fault. We have a weird job, with a weird schedule, and it’s hard sometimes to remember that we are actually human beings. Do you feel that too? That you’re only a body on a bike and that you are made to win and not... Feel things? It’s always been like that, for me. I was made to ride a bike and win races. Nothing less, nothing more. And I’m grateful for my career, of course. But... Yeah.
I wish I could talk to you about it. My teammates, they’re great, I love them, but they don’t get it. You’re a Grand Tour winner, too. You know how it is. But it’s not like I could call you, you know? That would be weird. Maybe a text. But I’m not great at texting. It’s too restricting.
So yeah, I guess I’m still trying to figure things out and I’m a mess. I was supposed to talk about my feelings for you. Do you think it’s weird? You probably do. We barely know each other. But when I look at you, I feel warm. And I get that weird feeling in my chest, like I can’t breathe properly, but not in a bad way.
I’ll probably end up burning this letter anyway.
Bye, I guess.
Love, Tadej.