Letter 16Infinities always remind me of you, the way they glow like sultry slanted eyes, laughing at me in my ancient clunker
Sometimes I wonder if you would have ever let me drive your car if we had continued being a 'we'.
Also, if I had a fun car such as yours, what sort of craziness could we wreak upon the world?
I know, this is not much of a letter, but you are out of state, I am out of words, and my car is nearly out of gas from pretending at badassery.
Letter 15Hey, Casey!
Random letter, I know. Like I said before, I've given myself writing assignments. The weird thing is I am actually going on with them. I only have sixteen left to write. Some of these have been actually a bit poetic, I think. It does not seem that I entirely failed at spinning these unread messages for people who...oh, let me face it, will probably never read them.
Maybe that knowledge is what allows me to write so easily. I don't have to worry about what these words can stir up in you. Because I can dream, and believe, me I often have, about them being read by you, and you seeing finally that all I have done was done in love. Listening through grief and numbness. Backing off when you were so unsure about us. Giving advice about those relationships you have tried. Holding your hand through that death that passed for your life for a year. I dream so often that you could finally see that, and somehow see that you love me as much as I love you, and there could b
Letter 14You and I have more in common with a beach and drifting waves than I thought
There are tides to us
Moments where we are drawn closer
Tracing your fingers down my spine like sea foam
Before drifting away again
And the sands grow silent
Until you crash again
Letter 10My dear,
I'm writing this because we don't talk as often as I would wish. Meaning, we haven't in the past year or so. I don't think single minute accusatory phone calls quite count either. I wish you would actually talk to me. We used to so often, staying up so much past our bedtime (remember when we had bedtimes?!) to tell stories and make plans for sharing a flat and TV and VHS tape collection...oh, we were so young then, not knowing the allure of internet, computers, DVDs and men. Men are the ones who seem to really throw monkey wrenches in...though maybe you could blame my education just as much for leaving you behind. For myself, I am just seeing the men. It started last summer, remember? Or was it the spring, when I was so stubborn as to ignore what was right in front of me? I know, I made a mistake. I do that sometimes. But when you said I know nothing of love, slapping me with words and fists under the summer moon, because I dared say I didn't think your man was good enough for
Letter 12Dear Past Me,
I know that you did what you did because you just loved, and wanted to express concerns, or how much he made you burn with joy, and how much those two together reminded you of your past, but...I am afraid that those good intentions surely paved the road down to hell, because here I am now, and despite pressing the accelerator down to one hundred and five mph, and screaming my pain, this feeling like I can't even dig my nails deep enough into my flesh to forget you stays. I do not know what you and I are to do now, because all you can say is how much you can be blamed for these piles of shit. And I can't deny that too much, because if you could have just tread a little lighter, or spent more time with her, or managed to hold you tongue long enough to not admit 'I love you', then we may have ended up somewhere a little brighter.
Past Me, I'm sorry, but this is just one of the days I really truly want to hate and despise you.
Letter 11Dear Past Woman,
I am not sure who you are. Are you American, European, Asian, or African? Did you slave everyday and wonder how you were going to feed yourself, or did you wake with the only conflict of how to dress for dinner?
Was having a sister so hard for you too? I've been trying, lately, to be a good big sister. To support her, but gently let her know I think she can do better. But her retaliation is sharp, and bitter. It keeps me up for hours, and turns my stomach. I have lost friendships before. That is kind of a part of life. But I have never lost a sister before, and this is scaring the shit out of me.
Sorry, I did not mean to just rant about my own troubles when I am sure you had plenty of your own...but, you probably had those days too, didn't you?
I would love to hear from you soon. It would be nice for some affirmation that our lives really are similar. That likely wouldn't happen unless I uncover some fanciful letter of your own, won't it?
Mary Margaret Lynch
Letter 9Dear Doctor,
I wish I could meet you, and spin dreams across galaxies and time vortexes. There could be some magic in that, and I could hop forward to show to the stubborn of faithful lovers that there is something hollow hidden in white gold and shimmering sapphire.
Or maybe I am wrong. Maybe a hop forward would merely show me that my post traumatic notions of love are wrong, and his ass-hatted-ness is not as bad as all that.
At any rate, next time you come into my corner of
Tossed aside companions
We could have tea
I could actually have a reality to fall in love with instead of a fictionality to wish for
I already have a fictionality that has stirred the tantalizing realities
And such a fiction he has been too...
Yours always (like everyone else that steps into the TARDIS)