Friday, October 5, 2007

Letter: October 4

Dear Mr. Ineffable Baritone,

I figured I could consult you on this. I have a huge problem. It can be described simply through this:

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What should I do?

I miss my past. I'm writhing for it with every part of me. I'm in danger of getting sickly nostalgic every hour or so. It's gotten so bad that I can't breathe when I think that all of it is over. That it will never happen again. My heart refuses to let it slip into simple memories... no, I am living in the past. My mind is there and I can't drag it out. This would not be so petrifying if I actually wanted to embrace my future, but I don't want to do that either. In fact, I'm petrified. I hate what's looming ahead of me. I wish I could stab it with a knife and dispose of all deathly possibility. I didn't want things to happen this way.

In the process of struggling between my past and future, I have completely lost contact with my present. I'm lost. Snared. I'm breaking, Mr. IB. I can feel the brittle parts of my heart slowly, slowly fracturing.

We both need help now.

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