Love Letters
BY SANDRA L.
I can’t sleep. I think it’s your fault. The other night, I had a dream that you fucked this girl we know in my basement. In the dream, you were this horrific version of yourself. Cruel and casual. In real life, you are kind and casual.
I wish you wouldn’t be so casual. I woke up from that dream in paralysis. I don’t remember the last time a dream scared me so much. When I was little, I had a dream that this man was in my house. He was trying to murder me, my sister, and my mom. We were locked in my mom’s room, huddled in bed, crying.I hated that dream. This dream isn’t like that dream, but I still hate it. I kept remembering the dream throughout the day, getting glimpses during class or in the bathroom. Even thinking about it now, my breathing is getting a little shaky and my hands aren’t super steady. I would be perfectly ok if it were not for those hours in the rain and on the metro and with the pyramids. That’s what really got me. The pyramids and children’s toys and mayonnaise. I have these moments when I agonize over my feelings. Except, I don’t think I have all too many feelings for you. I always feel like I’m speaking to a robot, or a friend’s dad. Too casual. But I am, and have always been, a romantic. I would always like to believe in the girl who falls for the boy who has been right beside her the whole time. Except I don’t believe it for us. I think I was crushed by how crushed I felt in my dream. I hate how bothered I am by you. This does not compare to crushes of the past. My heart is not wrenched, I don’t feel giddy when I am around you, I don’t find you fascinating or hilarious or intoxicating. But I am still finding something to hold on to. There is an insurmountable distance between my seat and yours. Today, I skipped a party at your home for milk and donuts. Everyone I love was there. Maybe this would have been it. Probably not. Maybe I’ll manage my feelings into the size of a mint and stick them under my tongue to melt. Probably not. Well anyways. I hope you have a Merry Christmas. You deserve it. |