DelusionsThe sentences that wish to be somehow always fall awryPirouetting away in straight jacket mockeryTo stand proudly in the arms of delusionAnd askWhy haven't you come join the fun?
ABCAbrasive boundaries carry death,Even for graceful humanity.Internally jealous,Kings love middle notes.Operatically pathetic,Queens reach staring towards under-velvet whispers.Xenophobes yearn,Zealous.
IntimacyIt was not so much that you touched me in ways I never knew,So much as you let me hold your heart.I'll bet you don't even know what hold that has on me.
StrangeThe summer heat makes your heart hang heavy in your chestAnd the clouds rend light and shadows apartCasting patches of cool sweet nothing on the too real roadsThese are the days when I don't want anythingAnd yet I want everythingLife is strangely beautifulStrangely uglyAnd justStrangely strangeI think I have been alone in my mind too long
Letter 31Dear Doctor,I love you because your words hint at worlds to be explored and lives that you have shaped, and I would long to be included in such greatness. I love you because you go at life like a child, excited, eager to see what new adventure lies in store in the farthest reaches of the galaxy and the quietest haunts of time. I love you because there is still some honor, some respect for life in your ancient eyes.And most of all, dear doctor, I love you because you remind me so god damned much of him. You both must always be off to save the world, the universe...The problem is, I sometimes think I have more chances with you than him.Confusedly yours,Mimi
Letter 30Dear Mirror-Me,I cannot see you now. I wonder if in reverse land I could be smiling. If I am dressed and attempting more in my life.Probably not though.You know, you really confuse me sometimes. You lie and say I am slender. That my eyes are dark and brilliant in the midnight hours. And then five minutes later, you are laughing and pointing out that too unfortunate tummy. I don't know what to do with you. Or because of you. Or whatever. Every moment I have drawn a confident truce with you, there is that moment away from you when reality smacks me in the face.And then when you snarl at me and tell me my skin can never be alabaster smooth, and my eyes are not rested, and, in fact, these jeans do make my thighs look fat....he indicates quite the opposite.Honestly, Mirror-Me, I would rather just trust his opinion. You have never helped me by telling me I can never be enough.So. Good bye. Stop lying to me. I won't actually leave you...but your opinion is less important than I thought.
Letter 29Dear Casey,Yes, I am afraid to say everything to you.Saying 'I love you' has never worked too well in the past, and yet those are still my sweetest memories.That night you were so sick on vodka and whiskey and tequila but still leaped (figuratively) to my defense was so sweet. I hardly heard him calling me a bitch though...you were needing me, and he was so irrelevant.You know, I would have done all that even if you could speak no words nor even bear to open your eyes because mornings bring too much shame and regret. But you said, on the return trip from drunkenness, that which I always wanted to hear. A sweeter payment I could never ask.And I never will, because you have to give that freely and I am so afraid to spoil things again by rushing in and making mistakes....besides, if nothing ever works out, this would probably be less painful and awkward for the two of us.Love, Mimi
Letter 28Dear Stephen,I know for certain you will never read this. After all, you have brilliant music and witty lyrics to write, while I am just an almost-college-graduate who has too much summer time on her hands and a lone computer to connect her to her dreams. I would like to thank you for those dreams a bit. I'm not a singer- ok, so I did take voice lessons, but I know I could never take hold of the stage like Bernadette or George. I am no writer of lyrics. Rhymes and meter don't come easily to my mind. I cannot create melodies to form characters. I can hardly create a character to match the music and lyrics. I am a theatre major, and I adore musical theatre, but my heart is in creating visual characters.I still have you to thank though. Bit by bit, your genius painted a foundation, one I long to add details to.Actually, when I saw a clip on youtube from 'Into The Woods', and witnessed Bernadette adding her brilliance again to you, I decided even more that I wanted to be a part of that.
Letter 27Dear Amar,It's so odd. We only conversed for a single hour, more or less, but I can only count you as a friend. I wonder sometimes what your world is like. I automatically think either squalor or romance, but I know that probably isn't the case.You said your dad was a government official, your mom a housewife. What kind of life does that mean for you? Do you have family dinners? Is your mom the person you talk to? What kind of friends do you have? What religion changes you life? There is so much about your life that will always remain an unknown to me.Will you leave India?Will you finish school and be a computer engineer like you are planning?Will you get married, have kids?I don't know and probably never will but here is to the future. Maybe we will meet again.Your friend of an hour, Mimi