#deardaisy

I know everyone thinks I’m young and dumb and don’t know what love is... but what if I do? What if I now exactly what love is and I’m feeling it now. I don’t even know how to describe it, I just feel it. Love is different for everyone. For me it’s the cute little scenarios before you got to bed, it’s the goodnight and good morning texts, it’s the cute little nicknames you have for each other. it’s the longing stares and wishful thinking that distract you from even the littlest things. It’s the rushed feeling like you’re on a rollercoaster and the sudden need for their lips to be on yours. I know exactly what love is. the only thing is, I’m way too afraid to admit it.

All I wanna do is look into your hazel eyes and get myself lost in the galaxy they hold.

I spend two weeks waiting. One week for you to receive my letter and another week to receive the one you wrote back. I love the surge of excitement that I get when I go to check the post office. Either I am blessed with your letter or I am cursed with disappointment and having to wait another few days. You know everything about me. We were best friends our whole life until you and your family moved away. But I still love you.

I just wonder if you'd be as open as I am about long-distance relationships. I want you to be. That way I can have you as my girlfriend... but I'm so scared. This is my biggest crush yet. For once I'm actually open to starting a relationship. Usually I'll shut down every time someone starts liking me back because I don't know what's it's like to have a partner and I'm afraid I'll do something wrong. But I want to with you. 

I know you love daisies and girl in red. I know you love fantasy books that have tragic endings. I know you miss your friends dearly and you are looking forward to going to school because you want to see them. I know pangolins are your favorite animal. I know you love red roses instead of white, I know you love day instead of night and yet you still adore the moon more than the sun. And you love stars so much, and pastel colors rather than bright colors and your favorite is purple. All these things remind me of you, and make me want to know you even more.

I have memories of us running a restaurant, with mud cakes, crushed flowers, leaf pies and so on. I have memories of us running down a maze, careful not to step over the line or bump into each other, but then halfway through we gave up and just ran.

I know you love to write books just as much as I do. I remember we'd talk endlessly about our characters and our stories and the world they live in. I still have my other half of our necklace, the yin and yang one. I still remember talking up a storm at a café, trying to thaw out our limbs after we'd spend hours outside in a museum of kings and queens and castles. It was raining non-stop that day. But we didn't care. We just walked around endlessly, enjoying everything the museum had to offer. We got scared because we thought we had seen a ghost, or heard a ghost, and I remember screaming and running away as quick as we could. We were so frightened. But we loved it.

I miss our days spent together. I wish we could recreate them. I wish I could see you. I wish I could tell you what I feel. I want to sit with you under a tree, lounging on a picnic blanket, with flowers in your hair and music playing softly. I dream of rolling around to look at you. And then I dream of kissing you. Softly. So softly. And I dream of you kissing back.

I wish you could hear the letters I write to you in my head

Staying up all night, just for you

Sorry it’s been a month since I last wrote even though we initially agreed for this to be a once a week thing. I told you that because writing letters wasn’t set in a routine, I’d forgotten about it.

So. That wasn’t the whole truth. Not exactly.

The truth is this: it’s been getting hard. I say this also knowing that I have a tendency to minimize how I feel, even to myself. I don’t know what it was about today, but it all kind of just poured out of me.

Six hours. I cried for six hours. I didn’t even know you could cry that long.

I don’t really know what’s wrong, is the thing. I mean, everything’s kind of wrong, everywhere, and here too, but at the same time nothing terrible has happened to me. Nothing recent, at least. So nothing’s really wrong, right?

But how can I even begin to explain that? That this wrongness I’m crying about is still real, even when nothing has technically happened. I mean, anything that has happened is routine for me, even if it’s not necessarily normal. I’m used to it. There’s a comfort in that predictability because I know how to deal with it. If this happens, then I do that. Simple. Quick. Easy. I don’t even have to think.

But…this? There’s no…routine, no plan for this. I don’t even know what this is.

I’ve been trying to soothe myself. To get lost in writing and daydreaming about the half-baked worlds in my head, or in the elaborate worlds of someone else. To idle in a tavern in that game I play, on a character that no one knows about, and listen to bards pluck strings to nostalgic songs. To have long, silly talks with friends into the night about things—objectively stupid things, things you don’t have to think too hard about, like how one person giving me hydration tips told me I should sip water instead of chug. ‘I am not a frat boy’ is now a mantra I repeat to myself every time I try to slow down on the water chugging.

It doesn’t always help—I mean, not really. It’s like trying to seal a leak with paint. It’ll work for a time, cosmetically at least, but eventually the water’s going to build up and trickle right through.

Paint is all I have right now though, so it’s what I’ll use.

I hope this letter doesn’t dampen your mood. I think I’ve worried that I’d be too negative when we corresponded like this, because, and here’s another truth: I’m rarely ever happy. The last time I was truly happy, I was overseas on a beach, surrounded by people who loved me without the conditions that matter to everyone else. I was alive, and I was with them, and that was enough. Now it feels like a mirage. Something that happened at some point in time that I’m now far removed from. I can’t really remember what it feels like (I remember distantly feeling like my chest was glowing and warm), but I miss it.

There’s some good news. I get to see you tomorrow, and it’s been a while, and I think I really need to anyway. It's the one thing that I've been looking forward to. Isn't it weird how things align like that, sometimes?

Just when I thought my week was going to be dull, I got a frantic e-mail from the place I edit for. Deadlines were two weeks ago, so I was surprised it took this long for the team notice any errors, but well. What can ya do? It turns out they had forgotten to send over a few written works and asked how long it would take me to rank them alongside the others. They said I could take as long as I liked, courtesy of their own mix-up.

I don’t usually mind unexpected things like this, but when a whole process moving forward is contingent on you getting work done quickly and efficiently, it’s admittedly stressful. I’m confident I can get these done in a week if I push it, but I’m asking for two just in case. Never know when life’ll throw you in for a loop, and these stories deserve as much attention and care as the others got. Not the authors’ faults, but doing the work over again is frustrating.

There’s no update on the job search, sadly. The place I got an interview for is pausing their hiring process, which I later found out was because of strikes. I support strikes, obviously. Workers deserve fair pay and the cost of living right now is certifiably insane—but it still sucks that it all had to happen right now. I’m applying to other things in the meantime. Have heard nothing else so far. I briefly thought about taking bartending classes, then saw from bartenders on Reddit that those things are a waste of time and money. We’ll see if the bartending avenue leads anywhere, because no one wanted an editor with less than two years’ experience. Job searching is super fun.

On another note, I’ve been reading The Handmaid’s Tale, because the usual high fantasies aren’t cutting it for me lately. I’m getting tired of being drenched in a whole lot of lore that I need to keep track of and wanted something a little more straightforward and…realistic? Or, I guess way less lore-heavy is more what I’m trying to say. A lot of the themes in that book are sadly relatable. I’m not going to lie, it’s a heavy read, but it’s also something that’s consumed me. Half the time when I pick it up, I can’t put it down, and I don’t often get that feeling. A while ago, I made it a goal to read a whole bunch of books that have, at some point, been on a ban list, mostly out of curiosity, and this is the first one I’ve deliberately picked up from that list. Mainly because it was the only one I owned. But also because many people in the book sphere are saying it is an essential read right now.

This area has always been a perpetual dumpster fire, but lately it’s been even worse. I’m trying my hardest not to obsess over the news, though it’s hard when it’s all being shoved in my face. Constantly. It’s just frustrating when politics nowadays seems to be less about taking care of the people and more about sticking it to the other party.

It’s a clown show. With shitty popcorn. And instead of making animal balloons, the clowns just pop each other’s and make all the kids cry.

I hate clowns.

Anyway.

I don’t know how to end this off. It’s a little weird to think I haven’t seen you in over a month. I saw a figure of Captain America eating what I think was shawarma and it reminded me of you. And then I got sad. And now I’m sad again. Ew.

What’s up on your end?

Part 5 of Postcard challenge Gen 1 - the Farmer

Dear Mom and Dad,

Some random guy walked into my home today while I was baking some scones. He walked right into my bedroom and went to sleep!. Once I could get him to wake up I found out he was as drunk as a skunk! He must have came from Sara’s Pub. 

Normally, I would kick him out right away but, I honestly feel like he needed a safe place to sleep. In the morning I sat him down and had a talk with him. He wouldn’t stop apologizing about breaking and entering. We actually hit it off right away. 

I did find out that his name is Baako Jang and the reason he got super drunk was his wife and him got into a really big fight and he doesn’t know what to do because the marriage is super rocky. 

I told him to talk to her about his feelings that's all he can do is at least try and tell her the truth. I hope it goes well for him he seems like a really nice guy just lost.

Much love