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dear y,

31 Aug/ 1 Sept 2023 (2:26am)


Dear Y, I've been sick for over a week now with this cold that arrived as soon as you were snuggled comfortably in my bed. It came on very suddenly- I was breathing, and then I wasn't. I cried over peanut butter oatmeal 4 days later, and I think that is no coincidence.

There is a singular mosquito in my room that I cannot bring myself to kill. I wonder if it is the same one from the other day, the one we chased around and around . . . I'm not convinced we got it that day.

Dear Y - I begin feeling things more truly after 2am. I am not sure if that is when the fear leaves my mind, or contrarily, when the feelings just become so strong that they phase thru the veil.

Dear Y . . . I am sick because I am afraid of you. Of loving you. Dear Y I loved A---- so very deeply. Hurting is part of love, Y, and this is my first time being afraid. Maybe I am sick so that I can't get to know you too fast.

School starts next week, Y.

Dear Y, it is important to me that I show up how I want to for this. I'm not convinced I can do that right now, and that is why I am sick.

I haven't shown up as I wish to for a while now. Have I ever? Is it possible to do so?

Words write themselves on the page.

Dear Y - I have so many phantom regrets from my last love - regrets that are not my burden to carry... regrets that I should not blame myself for... things I could not change even if I did it all over again... things that I torturously say would change the outcome even if they would not. There's so many unknowns at the start of any endeavor.

This mosquito continues to bite me.

Dear Y,

Please wait for my cold to pass, and then a little longer.

If we are nothing then so be it.

Dear Y,

My heart aches often. Be gentle and good to me.


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