Curiouser and Curiouser!

Oh hai there readers! I realized this afternoon that I had promised you a new letter before last week had ended and I must admit I had kind of completely forgotten about, so I beg your forgiveness, and without further ado present the letter :

Hello Dear,

     

             I have a confession to make: It makes me rather sad that you and I don’t really talk anymore. And I know that’s somewhat my fault I sort of stopped talking to a lot of people there for reasons I don’t really think need to be mentioned, but I digress. How have you been? (Side note I actually have no idea if you even read my blog so this letter could be kind of pointless) However let’s get to the meat of this letter shall we?

I’d like to start this letter but stating that I’m not professing any romantic feelings for you, to be perfectly honest I’ve never really thought of you in that light . Now mind you that isn’t to say that I couldn’t, given the right set of circumstances but for most of the time I’ve known you I had a pretty valid reason not to. However the other night I had a dream about some of the things that happened last fall and it got me wondering: Even though I’ve never thought about it, have you? All things considered I imagine you can see were one might wonder.

     

I must admit I’ve not a lot to write without completely giving away who you are and I certainly wouldn't want to do that. Not to mention you already have a boyfriend and I wouldn’t want to ruin that. In fact my only really point is this: If you did think about it or want it or hope that something might happen then I’m sorry. I am very deeply sorry for being so incredibly oblivious and, well... boy like. I’ve been in that position before of unrequited love and I know it’s really rather unpleasant so I hope you can forgive me for not noticing. You were and still are among one of my dearest friends and I hope that you and I will start talking again soon.   

Oh, and lastly if I’ve read your actions complete wrong (Which is of course entirely plausible) then… well I’ve nothing to say there that won’t sound douchey or fake etc. etc. To be honest it'd probably be best just to talk about it, then again it always is better to talk about it it just doesn't always happen. But like I said you are one of my dearest friends and I don’t want to change that, mostly I was just being contemplative.

Sam

Stones

Hello my lovely readers! Today I have something I thought was rather wonderful to share with you all. It was written by one Ms. Allison  of A Fine Frenzy (She has some wonderful music I suggest you go and check her out if you've never heard it before.) Anyway I thought it was so much like something that I might write that I simply had to share it with you all I hope you enjoy it as much as I did and take something meaningful away from it if you can.

we all have stones in our garden.

you know, the ones that sit heavy on the soil.  

the kind that, when lifted, reveal a perfect cutout of their shape in the grass, and a collection of worms and beetles frantically digging in the damp ground to escape curious eyes.

we all have these stones.

since we were small, before we can remember, possibly, we’ve taken our secrets- the ones we were too afraid to look at; the ones that hurt- lifted the heavy weight of the biggest stone we can find (it seems almost impossible now that we lifted them all by ourselves, but one must never doubt the strength of children) and buried them under there. and then we ran home, our hands and knees dirty and our tear-stained face attributed to a fall off a bicycle, or an overzealous game of tag.

we get older and we keep hiding things under that stone, careful not to lift it too high each time we slide the new hurt underneath. goodness knows what monsters might escape. 

it’s not just one stone, it’s many. this kind of hurt goes under the one with the pinkish spot. this sort of secret goes under the one shaped like a bear’s head. this fear, oh my, just stick it under the one in the corner under the tree, get it away, get it away.

over time, strange things start to grow around the rocks. dark spindly mushrooms, menacing looking tendrils, creeping frightening things that look like they might grab your hand and drag you under, should you come too close. 

so we leave those stones alone. 

but they don’t leave us. 

we look out the back window and there they are, waiting, the shadows that once only lived beneath them edging out towards the tall flowers, the old tree, the clean grass. the things we love. 
we can cut the flowers and the tall grass and the tree we used to love to climb, we can move house, we can run every day and every night away from those stones and yet somehow, they follow us. you can drink bottles of wine to blur your vision or dive headfirst into love to soothe your heart but when you close your eyes at night, just before you go to sleep, they will return, whispering, “lift me,” to your aching soul. and we cry, “no, no, never! i can’t!” and our stomach ties in knots and our heart pounds.

well, here’s the question to ask.

and i’m going to speak directly to you, and to myself, rather than using “we”, which is a much more comfortable word but distancing. this next part requires us to get very close.

ask yourself,

“what am i so afraid of?”

yes, when you lift one of those stones, you will see things you don’t want to see. strange creatures might crawl out and bite your ankles. not fatally, though. the kind of wound that heals.
you may feel things you don’t want to feel. old anger, sadness, pain, fear might well up in you so forcefully that your body may say, “i can’t take it, i’m going to explode!”
but you won’t explode. not if you let those things move through you. not if you say, “ok, old thing, you can run around in me for now, i’ve held you down for so long. it’s only fair.”
they will yell and scream and bare their teeth, they will scare you, they will stir you up, but if you are brave enough to let them, to look at them in the face and see them for what they are, and let them be that, then you’ll see that they can’t hurt you anymore. For they are old things, ancient things, many years buried but kept alive by you yourself. 

for had you left them in the sun, they would have dried up, dried right out, and then you could have hung them on your wall as souvenirs of things you survived.

it was in the darkness that they grew. 

you have to be very brave to do this. it’s not for the faint of heart.

but i have to tell you, when you do, it is such a relief.

wishing you courage, and faith in yourself. you are everything you need to be.

P.S. For those of you (if any) who enjoyed my last post and the start of a wonderful Minecraftian adventure fear not! I am just putting the finishing touches on the next installment and should have it posted for you soon.

P.P.S. I'm also in the process of writing another open letter that will be posted sometime latter this week I should think. Until then I hope you've enjoyed what I posted today.