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DEAR READER
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
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@burned-letters

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via weheartit
Try to Praise the Mutilated World
by Adam Zagajewski tr. Clare Cavanagh
Try to praise the mutilated world. Remember June’s long days, and wild strawberries, drops of wine, the dew. The nettles that methodically overgrow the abandoned homesteads of exiles. You must praise the mutilated world. You watched the stylish yachts and ships; one of them had a long trip ahead of it, while salty oblivion awaited others. You’ve seen the refugees heading nowhere, you’ve heard the executioners sing joyfully. You should praise the mutilated world. Remember the moments when we were together in a white room and the curtain fluttered. Return in thought to the concert where music flared. You gathered acorns in the park in autumn and leaves eddied over the earth’s scars. Praise the mutilated world and the grey feather a thrush lost, and the gentle light that strays and vanishes and returns.
and one day, if i’m lucky enough. i will find someone who will actually enjoy my presence and the person i am enough, to choose me. over and over again. just like i will choose them and love them. one day

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at times when hope is too big of a thing to have, curiosity (even clinical or small) is a very good placeholder
asking myself "why continue" & finding the answer is always, in some form, "i want to know what happens next", even if that want is tired or detached or outright morbid
To All of You,
Every single time I write something, I can imagine a different face.
Love is not something that is cut up and distributed among the masses. It’s something that spontaneously ignites. It’s something that can be cultivated. It’s something that requires nurturing.
When I say I love someone, it could take the form of anything.
I love him as I love racing down the highway with the music blaring.
I love her as I love the comforting moments under a blanket with a movie playing.
I love them as I love us singing our hearts out while doing house chores.
I love him as I love our game nights together with friends.
I love her as I love cupcakes that we bake together.
But all this love can fade. The colors may dull, the ghost of feelings may linger even as these things become memories.
I hope to love more and not feel hurt by the love I’ve had to let go of.
Dear,
I’ve been thinking. At what point will you realize it’s time to let go? I’ve been clinging on, but it won’t last. You’ll decide to leave too, I’m sure of it.
I’m waiting for the worst, but I’m hoping you’ll stay.
Dear You From a Few Years Ago,
I still think about what you said. Sometimes I wonder if I imagined it. We were friends and we were close. You said once that maybe we could have been more, but you were not totally sober.
I asked someone else their opinion on this. Was that you being honest or was that substance talking for you?
Things changed between us before I could ask. I was teased for even thinking we could have had more.
I still hope for the best for you. I know your brilliant mind will get you places. I know you’ll be free to do what you want to do. I was hurt by you, but I want nothing but the best for you.
I’ll cherish m’ennuieriez of us together, cuddled up on the couch that one time or the numerous times we cooked and baked together. I’ll learn to let these things go too, so that the memory of you will be free too.
- sincerely,
an Old Friend
Dear You,
Your silence is deafening. Did I do something wrong? If I did, allow me to correct my mistakes.

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To You Who Works Too Hard,
At what point will you allow yourself some rest? You are a firestorm, a blazing tide. But all flames get snuffed out, if not sustained.
Dear You,
Is it possible to love you too much? Will you come to resent me for loving too much?
Dear You of Three Years Ago,
I’m not sure you knew that you’d talk to me again. I’m not sure you expected to apologize. I’m not sure you’re in the right place of mind to be talking to me.
Time and space can change feelings. Often, I’m sitting and wondering of the many possibilities that I did not take. The missed avenues make for good writing and lessons learned. Had you asked me years ago if I still had feelings for you, I would not have admitted it. I’ve had time to sit and consider things. I’ve had space to grow. I’m a little less worried about hiding my feelings.
Dear You, of Whom I’ll Meet Again,
Time has changed us. Space has changed us. Life is different from then and that’s okay. Let’s remain friends, let’s meet like the earth meets comets: infrequent but bright and beautiful.
Sincerely,
burned letter.
Dear Dream You,
I haven’t the heart to talk to the real you. We haven’t spoken in months and while I’m on good terms with nearly everyone, I’ve gone quiet with you.
I am sorry for this.
In my dream, you accepted my apology and still wished to rekindle things. I don’t have the heart to hurt you again. I may be an even worse fit for you now, compared to back then. Will I ever find a love like yours? No. Will I be happy again? I’m learning to be. Will you be happy? I hope so.
Your dream family had mixed opinions, as I’m sure they did when we were together. It was strange to see their faces again after so long. I couldn’t believe how some faces remained the same, while others grew up so fast.
You’re doing better, I think. You seem happier, more like yourself. That’s good.
I’m doing fine, I think. Some call me a free-spirit, and I’m beginning to think they might be right.
If I see you by chance, I might now approach. I feel that, maybe, it’s best we keep going on our spiraling ways, away from each other. You seem better off without me, and I may be better off without you.
Sincerely,
Another burned letter.
✦Flower Sword✦

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To the Me of 5 Years Ago,
You were going through a lot, and for that I’m sorry. I didn’t know that your pain tolerance was that low. I thought we hadn’t hit our threshold yet. I thought we could take on the world, since we’ve always done that.
So much has changed since then. I wonder if you would recognize me now. Would you understand your reflection? We share the same face, we still have the same pants size. We try to smile and we try to give our all to everyone still, and yet, there remains a shadow in our heart.
There’s still many doubts, though little regrets. What has happened cannot be undone. There’s no point in continuing to try and salvage things that have only ever cut your hands. Perhaps you can breathe easier, knowing that it’s less of a struggle now to say no. To step back. To pull away.
You will see remnants of those no longer close to you. You will see a smile that makes your heart ache. You will hear a song that makes you sob as you sing along. You will eat food and reminisce of a time long ago. You will drive alone and wonder whatever happened to the hand you once held, but keep going nonetheless.
To you, dear sweet, summer child, I leave you the hope of something new and something to look forward to.
Sincerely,
The You Who Keeps On Going
wolf pup
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