Letters to No One in Particular.

-.1

Dear _,
I guess I want to start by asking how you’ve been. I wonder if that’s how you’d start it too, or if I mainly ask to get a read on what you’re carrying with you. Hypervigilance still permeates from the lungs even while I write. It’s a precautionary reflex, or it’s a totally normal way of beginning a letter to you, given the circumstance that hasn’t yet been revealed, as you have not disclosed your recent state until the letter I receive in turn for this.

I’ll go first. I’ve been overthinking the past, present, and future. Every step forward I’m nervous beforehand, then I turn and replay the footage to double check my work. Like VHS, the story told forward is an unraveling. We’re supposed to change, but life has felt far too stagnant lately. The frames have run all the same. I don’t think I can blame it on anything other than doubt, and roundabout thinking. What do you think? Tell me what you’ve been up to.

I’ve been trying to save money, living at home with my mom for at least another month before moving to Portland, Oregon. I was so tired after everything, I agreed to move back. My mom likely sensed I needed some time to recover. The longest I saw myself staying was only a few months. I’m looking forward to designing a place of my own again.

I’ve painted some new things on the biggest canvases I’ve used. It’s crazy to me that there’s growth, visible learning in the abstract painter. Is that bias to say, since I am him? I feel like my writing is coming back. I’ve started writing pages on pages that make sense only if you let the words be. Don’t grasp at them so quickly, please. I’ve felt disconnected, a short circuit for a long while. Now play seems to have returned and taken center helm, or at least a few nights ago it felt like it had, maybe to your influence.

I’ll provide more details if this is to be a conversation. I look forward to hearing from you again.

-icarus