My beautiful creature,
It has been a day.
It has been a week.
I feel like I'm just a tiny little being trying to make it all work somehow, to fit into whatever we call 'life'.
I am tired. I slept last night - I swear. I'll sleep tonight, too, because I know you want me all rested. And I'll try to do that. To take care of myself, be it sleep, food, watching Sinners, or doing some silly little dance moves outside, trying to get the blood moving and protect myself from the cold.
You need a better jacker. Or - hear me out - a coat.
However down I feel - it's not on you in any way. It's not on anyone. Noone has caused this but me. Always trying to do the best, always striving for whatever greatness there is, and cursing myself that when I finally can reach it the bar just jumps up. It can never be done.
I know that it hurts you. It hurts him. It hurts however little friends I have.
If I'd absolutely honest with you, I'd tell you that I cried yesterday. And today, right after I woke up. And will probably cry when I get back from skiing practice tonight.
But it's ok. It's OK that all the bad stuff comes out. This metaphor won't be pretty, but tears are like emotional puss. In order for the wound to heal it needs to be clean of it. So I let myself weep uncontrollably from time to time, and it's OK, and there's nothing to be worried about.
I then come back lighter. A bit brighter.
Let me feel. Please.
Even if those feelings are not the good ones.
I've spent a long, long time being denied that. I grew up with the notion, with a law that you're either happy or nothing. So I was 'happy'. And then would go to this teeny tiny loo that's probably smaller than a dark room in your house, and I'd cover my mouth with both hands and sob. I spent ages doing that. Years. I guess that's why I liked theatre so much - there I could feel.
My beautiful being, do not worry. These are just clouds. They'll pass.
Do not be paranoid. Just come to me, ask me, and I'll tell you the truth. It's all I have.
Well, that and cake.
Do you know why I like bringing cake?
It's because of days like today.
When I feel like I'm nothing, noone, not good enough, not anything enough, when I can't live with myself in this body, on this planet for not one more second... I take care of others.
And then, slowly, the good comes back.
See, when Rachel said that she had a terrible day, and that shitty bundle of flour and apples helped to reset that - that's what matters.
Even when you ate it - and I could see the change, how everything shifted, if only just slightly. It's not a lot, but every little bit helps.
Especially today.
That's why I've sent you those songs - those ridiculously stupid pieces of music - so you could listen to them, lift your eyebrow to some questionable lyrics, and maybe even smile a bit.
See, it's stuff like this.
I know that trying to make everyone happy, to make everyone's day when I'm in the gutters feels counterintuitive. I know. But that's how I am.
When life gives me lemons, I make cake.
When life gives me lemons, I just bite into them, live through the sourness, and then smile because everything passes sooner.
And somehow, weirdly, it makes it all better.
I know we have a lot to talk about. I know there's so many things left unsaid, every day, so many hugs just floating between us.
And it feels like shit. I know. That we can't do anything.
It feels like someone is slicing me open. Right there, in the open.
But we'll figure this out. Maybe not today - it's been enough. But soon. And you'll get your hug. And we will be ok.
Because I know.
And you know.
And now time for all the random things that don't fall into the rest of it:
You asked me if I listened to your playlist. I did. I sometimes still do. Have you listened to mine? What did you think?
Do you even like what I send you?
Maybe I should stop? Maybe it's not your type of stuff?
I told you I dreamt of your friend. I've never seen him, I have absolutely no idea what he was doing in my dream, but there was this person and somehow I knew it was him. Lean-ish, light grey suit, almost a detective hat, matching, and - for some reason - a walker. I don't know why he was there or why this seemed important, but I just wanted to tell you.
I want to drive with you. Drive you somewhere. And I will - I'll come up with something.
I think you might like this on your way to work tomorrow. But maybe not - how the hell should I know :)
Your moustache looks weird after that hot towel experience. I really want to touch your face anyway.
I'm munching on the girliest snack ever - pink easter marshmallows. I like how the tiny ducks just disintegrate beneath my teeth.
I might give you a present. A naughty one. I still don't know if it's a good idea, but I know you might enjoy it. So maybe I'll do it. Maybe I won't.
Maybe this is enough for today. I feel like I have so much to tell you. So much to ask.
And so little time.
But remember - whatever this is, you are not alone.
My bad emotions are my own sometimes and nobody's at fault there.
Especially not you.
Trust me to tell you things. Trust me not to leave without any notice. If anything ever happens, you will know.
You asked me to trust you.
Now I ask of you the same. I ask you to calm down.
I ask you to sleep and take care of yourself because that's what I'm trying to do - because I know you'd want me to.
Goodnight, my dear.
A big, close hug goodnight.