12-10-10
Miranda Priestly,
I very rarely say this to people who aren't Emily, but you need to get a grip and take your head out of your ass.
How dare you tell me what I can and cannot do, feel and think?
You presume far more than I ever have, and, I could argue, that your naivety far surpasses my own. I never said that I did not accept you, and everything that comes with you. I have accepted since I put on my first pair of Chanel slingbacks. I merely stated that I did not accept your reasoning for pushing me away, because it's borne of your own fear, not a knowledge of my reactions.
That's not to say that I don't question, but that's just because I'm naturally nosy, and I actually want to understand you better. Not every question is a judgement, Miranda.
You are many things without Runway, because for all that you have poured into it, I think that there are parts of yourself that you have always kept well hidden, for fear of losing yourself altogether. I have seen it in your eyes; the way that you look at your children; the way that, sometimes, you would look at me, when I was looking at you, too.
You do not have it in you to destroy me, Miranda, because I would never be the person that would require you to.
I am Andrea. Andy. And perhaps I am not influenced as much by the fashion world anymore, but that doesn't mean that I hold it - hold you - in any less regard. And you have not met anyone like me before, regardless of what you may think. I wish you could put your presumptions and your hang ups and your self-flagellation aside just long enough to let me show you what you could have.
I don't want to live my life in regret, Miranda; looking back at all the 'what ifs' and 'maybes'. I don't have much to offer you, except myself and my honesty, but I had hoped that it would be enough. I miss you. And I know that you miss me too. I don't want you to regret anymore, either.
Take a chance, trust a hope.
All my love,
Andrea.