My beautiful creature,
I don't want you to worry. I don't want you to suffer. You are not OK. I am not OK. Precisely when it would be oh so beneficial to be in the same space to help each other, to walk through this, we are apart.
But I am thinking of you.
I'm not going to tell you all the bad things. There are bad things. Many. I write this as I finished crying my eyes out. Some rogue drops are still present and sneak out through the corners of those lakes I carry in the valleys around my nose. I feel incredibly alone and isolated. I'd feel the same way if you were here. Maybe it's for the best that we're apart.
But enough about that.
All I care about right now is how you feel. How are you handling yourself. Do you find soft things to wrap yourself into. Gentleness to carry yourself with. For gods sake you need it. Especially now.
I know I shouldn't feel guilty. It was not my choice. Not my monkeys.
And yet...
In that dark part of my life - the one we don't talk about - I'm known by a different name. Persephone - the bringer of spring and death. I chose it deliberately. Now you see, too, why that was. Everything I touch wilts, rots and dies.
Plants. People. Relationships.
Happiness.
I was only trying to help. To love.
And look what I did.
I'd advise you not to read too much into this. I haven't slept. I'm tired from climbing up mountains, sliding, falling, then climbing again because I'm too petrified to go down. Today I want to not exist. Today I don't fit anywhere. Today I want to rip myself apart.
Today I'm too small to fit in a shell of a walnut.
Please take care of yourself.
I beg you. Please. Whatever happens - love yourself. Take care. Give yourself warm things. Protect yourself.
You sometimes ask what I see in you. I see a great deal of things. Good ones and not so good ones too. But I also see a cat. Scarred, a bit rugged - you know it's been around. And depending how you reach out for it it might smack your hand off leaving a painful mark, or press their cheek in into the bowl of your hand for a neck scratch.
I think whatever happened, whatever will happen from this day on - it came from the ruggedness. It had to happen because some part of you recognised that maybe this is enough.
I don't know, dear.
It is painful. For both of us. For same and different reasons.
I just hope you're ok.
I don't care what happens. Not to me, not to anyone.
I just want you ok.
- - - -
Today is Imbolc. I'll have a chat with Brigid tonight and hope - for answers, for guidance, for help. For myself. For you. For both of us.
It's incredibly stupid, but what else have I got.
Maybe, just maybe I'll sleep. Maybe I'll dream of something. Maybe you will sleep too. I pray you do.
We're terrible at taking care of ourselves, aren't we.
P. S. Now I hope that your therapist friend blacklists me. I pray he judges me. Somebody has to. Maybe it's god. I don't fucking care
I pray for punishment.
Not you though. You did nothing, absolutely nothing wrong.
Please believe me.
None of this is your fault.