My beautiful creature,
I am here. Sticking my head our of a 4th floor window to vape while setting this up - the letters, the everything...
Casually looking for another job, which I'm not going to apply for.
I got offered one. I could leave right now. I won't. I'm not going anywhere.
I didn't tell you about it, because I knew it would hurt.
It hurts anyway.
It's snowing. It's the type of a slow, pesky storm where you can only tell something's happening by looking at the streetlights. A bunch of white, icy flakes look like fireflies swinging in their crazy, chaotic flamenco surrounded by darkness. I know how this will end. The snowy morning will never come. Instead the snowflakes will gather around the bends on the pavement, window wipers and bins. The ones that managed to land on my hair will melt as soon as I stick my head back in and I'll forget about them completely until I'll touch it - possibly from frustration at all of this.
The Joker is playing in the background. It's around 9:20pm your time. I imagine that you're probably drawing. I always imagine you drawing.
When it gets dark inside me, I do the same thing as Fleck does: sit in front of the mirror and laugh. I weep and laugh because I have to get better. To trick myself into getting better. I did this since childhood. I wept in the cinema when I saw it on screen.
Sometimes I slap myself on the face. Hard. To stop - thinking, feeling, crying.
I almost did it the day you brought it all to the surface.
I think I was flying for the first 30 minutes. It felt surreal. Too good. Unbelievably lucky. And then it hit me like a goddamn Greater Anglia train.
I hid in the bathroom. And then in the wellness room. I was scared out of my head, not knowing what to do, painfully feeling the weight of the trouble we're both in slowly descending on my shoulders.
And then you touched my finger.
Have you ever seen Silence of the Lambs? That scene where Hanibal Lecter passes Clarisse the case file through the bars - and just for a split second brushes his finger over hers? For ages I found it extremely... Erotic. I still do.
And on the day that this all came to light... You touched my finger while passing me the sugar.
And... I don't know. For a split second it felt ok. For a moment there I forgot to worry. The same way I forgot all about it when we went out for coffee. It felt like the most natural thing in the world.
This... This worries me and gives me hope.
I realised now that I need to write this - if not for my sake, then for yours. To let you know that I know what it feels like, because we're feeling the same way. To let you know that you're not crazy, you're not alone. That I see you. Maybe we can make this work somehow. Maybe we can find a way to not blow everything up and help each other, exist for each other. Care. Because that is the only way.
I hope that this is it.
Because if not... I need to tell you that I'll leave. I'll stop writing this. I'll do whatever it takes to not mess up whatever you have. And eventually you will recover.
I'm terrified of many things, my beautiful, beautiful creature. Wrecking myself in order to save things is not one of them.