Letter No. 1

June 8, 2017



My dear friend,



I have spent the last week reflecting upon the choices I have made and continue to make up until this point, and I wonder what I could've done differently. I think about it more than I should, almost as if overthinking has become a second talent. I've acquired the need to pin point specific times in my life where I could have made a choice that would have spared me or people I love, pain ; the answer is never revealed, it remains in the murky space between distorted memories that I long to replay. The reels in constant rewind or fast forward. I'm acutely aware this obsession is soul-damaging, and I should just surrender to the way of the world and flow with the tides of Time, but I believe I've been holding on to something that needed letting go of long ago. That step always seems precipitous doesn't it? "Letting go", "Moving on" etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. 


How did you do it? When you, well, when you did it...when you decided you weren't in love anymore? The thing that made your life so full and complete for years, and yet, when the chapter was coming to a close, found yourself feeling optimistic and relieved to be finished the book? My dear friend, how? Following along this novel analogy, for instance, when I read a book, more often then not when I finish it I feel sad because it was so deliciously consuming that I never wanted it to end in the first place, never wanted to put it down for fear of losing the feeling it gave me. Do you know what that's like? Do you read or love with the same passion and over zealous ferocity I do? How do you let go of something that was once so valuable to you, and at what point do you decide it doesn't matter anymore? Releasing it and yourself into utter independence, aloneness and abandon thoughts of reconciliation? 


Oh listen to me, I've become a cynical old woman. I think I was born with idealistic affectations, and therefor have a very narrow prism with which I use to view the world through. Perhaps I'll never know how to move on from broken love, perhaps I'm not meant to for art's sake or something as similarly pretentious as that. Maybe only some of us are allowed to figure it out, and designed in a way that allows them to unlock the secret to surrendering to circumstance. For the rest of us fanciful fanatics, I suppose we'll just have to suffer silently until the next distraction comes along to challenge and inspire us.....and mend our cracking little hearts. 


Well, I've talked enough gibberish to bore any human so this is where I must leave you. I miss you. Every waking and sleeping moment. No exaggeration, I had a dream about you last night, you kissed the palm of my hand as I cried about nothingness forever and then whispered "forever isn't so long after all".




Until my next unrequited letter, 
























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