Dear Sam,
I'm starting to feel the weight of the world pile up atop my fingertips and on my shoulders and somewhere up my nose in my sinuses I'm afraid my head will explode and all my friends and family will see and tell me cliches that are kind of close to "I told you so" and I'm stressing over what will come and what I can't control sometimes I feel like I've missed so much yet I'm not missed it's good to hear from you and it's good to feel missed sometimes.
I'm starting to feel the weight of the world pile up atop my fingertips and on my shoulders and somewhere up my nose in my sinuses I'm afraid my head will explode and all my friends and family will see and tell me cliches that are kind of close to "I told you so" and I'm stressing over what will come and what I can't control sometimes I feel like I've missed so much yet I'm not missed it's good to hear from you and it's good to feel missed sometimes.
The cds you sent are the mobile above my crib. The rock in my cradle. The benzodiazepine in my sleeping pills.
Love, Sam
No comments:
Post a Comment