Brent Leuthold’s review published on Letterboxd:
Who will tell our story?
Plenty has been thrown at us the past three years. Some days, it feels like thirty years. Certainly the past three months alone has felt like years. First you got sick and neither of us understood it. The searching was a journey itself and the discovery, while temporarily satisfying, was daunting on its own terms. You were scared and I was emotionally unprepared. The truth is, I never coped with it. I never accepted that I may never fully get you back. If I had, maybe I wouldn't have gotten sick myself.
I fought hard for your happiness and I still do. It seems the fighting broke me. Now everything scares me and I don't know if I'll get back to myself either. I don't know who I am if I can't be strong for you. I've never felt fear like this. The fact is, I don't do this. I don't write personal essays on Letterboxd. I don't cry in front of my friends. I hardly ever cry in front of you. Now I tear up just looking at the gift you got me earlier this year, the kindest I've ever received: The 30 Things I Love About Brent. It reminds me of all the qualities I felt I've lost and how hopeless I feel about being able to get them back.
We're closer now than we've ever been, though I feel more distant from myself than ever. You know what I'm going through, probably even more than I realize. As you've said, our love is better than we've known. Somehow, I'll find a way and I know you'll be there for me while I do. It's foolish that I ever feel alone in this, considering how much you've done for me. I've often gotten the image of us as two tetherless diving bells in a sea of darkness but it's not true. We're tied together, following each other into the dark.
We will get through this.