A little letter from a stranger
THIS IS A LETTER FROM ONE OF OUR READERS
10 September 2013
9:16 PM
I am..not quite sure what exactly I am doing here, sending you this clumsy little letter. I have only recently come across your blog, but I just wanted to– I just felt that– I just needed you to know that:
Your words touch the innermost parts of me. The soft, tender, pink and fleshy insides-of-a-clam parts of me. You have such a beautiful mind, and a soul I have absolutely no words to even begin to describe or ever fully understand. If ever you feel that your words are brittle, are empty corridors where the silence simply echoes and echoes, I want you to know that tonight, they have made me feel. Again and again, and again. They have allowed me to forget momentarily the skin I am trapped within, and the people I feel are slipping like silk through my fingers. Thank you for the heaviness, for the light, for sharing with the world such raw and vulnerable fragments of yourself. And most of all, for words which bring comfort to the uncertainty of being.
I am not quite sure what I am here for. I write—or I suppose, spill my guts out occasionally. My name is June. My real name is not June. But I am only seventeen, almost eighteen, and feel that the words that I bleed out— from my fingertips, from my wounds, from my dreams—are so very hollow, so very futile and messy. But here is something I would like to give to you. It’s not very much, it’s not very good, but it is mine, and I would like for you have to have it, even if you never read it and it simply lies at the rusty end of this email, gathering dust. Tonight I just need to, I think, send a piece of myself into the void. But I hope nonetheless that this will reach you. And for a split second, or a few slow minutes, we will perhaps be connected by a fragile thread, touching without touching, understanding without understanding.
Love,
June
