Friday, July 17, 2015
A tweet by Sheila Heti
Your last letter was hard to read and yet I find myself rereading it every day; sometimes twice. I didn’t know there were so many things you found unpleasing about me. After all this correspondence, I suppose two people can fight just as they would if they saw each other face to face as often. I am understanding of our closeness and though I’d like to believe our relationship is immune to the casualties of constant interaction, I see now that it is not special or unique at all. Part of me likes that it is not because it takes some of the pressures of perfection away. I know now that if you can hurt me, I can hurt you, and that doesn’t make us love each other any less. What I struggle with is the fear that you have felt this way for some time and my once beloved qualities have now added up to an amount that is undesirable to you. Please, Edith, if you would, respond in honesty: Have I been bothering you for long? Or have you just recently noticed my flaws? I wonder this for if it’s the latter then I have to ask: Is everything in the right place with you? Sometimes, my dear Edith, we see ourselves in others…
Thursday December 11, 2014
from a Nurofen tube ad
There are lights in the trees here. It’s so nice to be around a place that cares enough to put lights in their trees. Really makes you feel like you’ve found a spot worth staying. They assure you with their details. With their simple adjustment of the everyday. No snow yet! Got a bit lucky there. I know, I know, grow up, buy proper shoes. Boots! I know, I know. You would hate how cold it is without even having snow. My ratty sneaks will live to see another week!(or at least that’s what I’ve been praying for 😉 …sorry!)
I’m finally eating vegetables and drinking more water. The probiotics are helping but I still dream of salted caramel hot chocolate. Today I feel less alone than yesterday. Something in the air I guess. Trying to power through, like you said.
Miss and love.
Thursday, June 13, 2013
The mailbox on the corner of Annette St. and Quebec Ave.
Lost my letters and all my love, I sent it to you, dear, I sent it all.
I would have made sure to track them but I didn’t know how. I didn’t know love could get lost in the mail. But you didn’t get it so it went some place else. Now I hate to admit it, but what if my love is now in someone else’s care. What if a different address holds the letters I was writing to you, dear, what if my love is sitting on an unfamiliar foyer shelf. I’m afraid I don’t have any more to give. Wrote all those letters when I was in it so deep. And you never wrote to me, dear, you never sent me your love in a white envelope everyday for a year. Unless yours got lost in the mail too. Then how sad and beautiful it would be, if both of our loves found their way to the same person. Maybe the postman has enough love to get him through his entire life now. We did that. We did that.