The Bird By The Window

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To my dear friend somewhere around the world,

A couple of years back I told you I was afraid of many things. Recently, I thought I had found hope in discovering myself but as it turns out, the culture that took me along with the ride perished away almost immediately when I rooted out the problem.

Unsurprisingly, the lessons that were taught to me seemed effortlessly redundant and the more I tried, the less applicable they became. Now the depressing parts of my life have been set in motion and I have no way of stopping any of it. All I know is that if I wrote about it as best as I could, I could pace myself and be ok just about enough. I have given myself a week before I completely shut myself off from all things emotional.

In finally realizing that kicking back the habit of lying is the way to go, I have thoroughly thought about letting the real hurt go. So this is where I begin my endings from and this is the part that I will always hate the most.

I will write to you much sooner than usual because even if I have lost you one too many times to the tempting adventures of the world, I have found myself placed ever so comfortably close in my memory of you.

It’s a tidal wave of shit over where I am, but I’ll save you a spot. x