I know you will never read this.
They don't hand out mail in the sky, or in the bottom of the earth. No pigeons will fly this over. And no, it won't be found in a bottle at a pirate's shipwreck in the depth of the ocean. But my words, nonetheless, will find their listener. My words will echo far after my life will send its farewell. I know you will never read this, and yet - this letter is for you. Or maybe this letter is despite of you. Or maybe - thanks to you. You are a complex enigma, a big question mark in a sea of a predictable world. I don't get you. I thought I used to, but I only looked at the idea of you, while you adored the idea of me. But did we ever really look at each other? Really LOOKED with no judgment. With no fear. Looked and saw the space in the eyes. The space that shows us that there is more in us than mere ideas. I don't get you now, and perhaps I never did. And I perhaps never will. With the changing of the tides and of the years, my longing to understand grows while my longing to be understood fades off. I know you will see me as what you will, no matter the actions I take, or the words I choose. As one thing I learned about you is: You are headstrong. Stubborn. Fierce in your commitment to see things the way you do. In some ways - I admire that. In other ways - I dread it. Changing perspective is a frightening thing. A brave thing. An enlightening thing. But once one changes perspective - one loses the old perspective. One grieves. One suffers. One misses the old way they saw things. That one is I. I miss knowing you. I miss believing I knew you. Your eyes seemed wonderful before. Now they are distant, cold, hollow, scary, troubling, sad. Or did my eyes change and you remained as you always were? This letter is for you, but you will never read it. You will never know my inner thoughts. My pain. My joy. My sadness. My longing. My dreams. You will never know because one doesn't know those things up in the sky. Or in the bottom of the earth. That one is you. Forever, and never, and any time in between, The one that is I.
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AuthorIn April 2020, while experiencing her first ever global pandemic, Tamar Pelzig pledged to write something every day, even if it's only a word, so she welcomed to the world a daily blog to keep her creative writing wheels rolling. Categories
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Header Art: Daniel Landerman |
Photos used under Creative Commons from chocolatedazzles, Jocelyn777 Love Europe, ONE-MILLION