The letters are pouring out of me. So here is a short one for you. I want to keep writing to this one, there’s a lot more to say that I can’t find the words for now.

To Crying,

(Concerning your presence as of late)

I cannot breathe. Or hear and absorb and metabolize. Everything stops in my eyes. I can’t say anything because everything talks to you.

Do you understand?

This is you.

My inability to manage everything–thoughts, sounds, people, reactions, anxiety, this somewhat manic perspective I’ve taken on–is my fault. We can put that on the record. Quote me on it. This I know. But you are exploding every second, pockets of air catching on one another, turbulent punches of life, realizations streaming out of my eyes.

Why had you been hiding? What were you waiting for? Because now, I can’t even smile, the thought gets stuck in my eyes too.

You’ve been sitting, sleeping, composing yourself like a symphony inside of my chest for two years. You are speaking now and it is the most eerie silence I’ve ever listened to, it’s astounding. And the sound is focused and textured and sharp. It is rattling every piece of me, everything. And it is so specific that I cannot put words to it. All I can say is, I don’t know, I don’t know. I am mourning.


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