Dear Maddie,
Writing letters to other people is always so much harder than writing letters to you.
Remember that one time I loved you? Today I find myself unexpectedly glad that there are other times.
...I mean, there are, aren't there?
Other times?
Right?
Like now?
Right?
There are so many things that I believe in but I can’t figure out which words I’m supposed to use to tell you about them. And there are things that I love and things that I’m afraid of. There are things that keep me up at night, curled up over a cup of coffee just so I can avoid drawing that inevitable blank when it gets too quiet right before I fall asleep and I have nothing else to do but try and force the things I need to say in some awkward combination of the verbs and nouns and adjectives I know.
- M
Remember that one time I loved you? Today I find myself unexpectedly glad that there are other times.
...I mean, there are, aren't there?
Other times?
Right?
Like now?
Right?
There are so many things that I believe in but I can’t figure out which words I’m supposed to use to tell you about them. And there are things that I love and things that I’m afraid of. There are things that keep me up at night, curled up over a cup of coffee just so I can avoid drawing that inevitable blank when it gets too quiet right before I fall asleep and I have nothing else to do but try and force the things I need to say in some awkward combination of the verbs and nouns and adjectives I know.
- M