I always say the same thing.
If you don’t know then you won’t know. Or if you don’t know then I guess you can’t know, which is fine because this is not to say that I or you or anyone else is better or worse. Not at all.
This is only to say that sometimes, the earth we feel comes with a different sensations. My hands have touched different things and therefore, the feel of silk or velvet will have a different meaning to me.
The same can be said about the smells we smell or the sounds we hear and how they are all mixed like special ingredients that give depth and substance to our memories.
My memories are mine and some people will never understand them. However, I am sure that you are one of the “Some” who would understand and “get it,” if I told you about them.
And, I have told you.

Where does the time go?
It’s hard to think about this but yesterday was your birthday
I guess it’s true what they say. Time flies.

No one ever knew your real age. Or so you’d tell us. And maybe this is true. Maybe you lied about your age for so long that even you forgot how old you were. Or maybe age is just a number.

Good morning.

I hope and trust that this find our spirits at a good time and that my letter serves a purpose for you.
I was up again, last night. Of course, this is nothing new for me or for you.
But such are battles we face.

I was told about the idea that perhaps I should surrender to win. I was told that if I surrender, then I can come to terms with the way things are instead of fighting with them which makes sense.

Nothing hit in last night’s attack.
But this is common with imaginary wars.
I know.
Today is Sunday and the morning was more than I expected.

The sky was blue and everything was green. The trees, the grass, the leaves, and all the colors of Earth are alive in springtime and showing themselves off in full bloom.
I am doing my best.
Or better yet, at least I can say that I have managed to remain consistent.
At least with this. I am still consistent with coming here or to sit with you, if there is such a thing.
All of this, my letters, my dialogues, and journals, and my internal truths and my external dilemmas are all alive and well and still real to me.
So are you.

And so we skipped along, like two kids, grown and reliving the ideas of what it means to be young and to feel alive.
Nothing in the world is as freeing or as redeeming as this feeling.
I write this to you, or my future you to which one day I am hoping that this becomes us and we become them.
There is an us and them. At least, I know this is so in my soul
or so I hope.

I think like anyone else does.
I’d like to be free. I’d like to get away.
I’d like to take a trip or maybe find somewhere that I could rest and not think so much.
I’m sure that you understand.

I know that you have been through things like this before too.
Everyone has.
We all go through our ups and downs. Or at least, so they tell me.
And that’s the thing about life.
No one gets out alive.

I have a question for you.
How do you let go?
How do you detach or how do you disconnect when something inside of you refuses to let go?
How?

I still dream.
Then again, I think you know this.