OLD part 2

(2006)

I don't know you at all anymore these days.
Honestly, it scares me to death.
You were the only thing I thought I actually DID know.

Now I'm alone again.

I started writing you letters... tons of them.
I ripped each of them up after the first few lines.

Word play can't fix the past or compete with reality.
I wish I could understand that.

On paper, I'm able to express myself clearly.
I can write about anything, and dress it up with fashionable words and catchy phrases..
It makes what I feel seem sophisticated and chic.
Better than it is, or than I'd like it to be.
A touch of flare, perhaps..
Extravagant word usage to play up the boring, idle thoughts of an eighteen-year old who thinks far too much for her own good.

Though, on sudden thought, I don't know why anyone would want to read through incessant ramblings from an opinionated mess of a hopeless romantic.. & then, actually enjoy what they read..

That would make them crazy, too, you know.

I used to write you letters filled with talks of the future..
of cheery lyrics and bold professions of love..
of silly girlfriend chatter, pointless, but nonetheless fun to read.

Now I write about tears and guilt and absolute misery.

Oh, how the times have changed...
This warped new take on things has taken the best of me.

The only way I ever felt that I could truly touch your heart so deeply was through my letters.
It's uplifting to pour out my feelings and desires onto an empty piece of paper, a blank canvas, and turn emotions into a dynamite masterpiece...
A letter, true, but a testimony even more so.
A confession.. Or many, at that.