Day: March 2, 2017

Dear Q,

Can you forget the things I said to you last night? If you would be so kind as to remove them from your memory, I would be most obliged. For you see, as I told you those things, I was suffering from a bit of a headache, and my mind was uneasy with the stink of rotten news.

And when I told you I loved you, I was really just playing a game in my head. For all I know, you’re a fool with a stone for a heart, and I would lose myself in impossible agonies if I were to hand you my affections without first asking the proper questions of you.

But you’re a kind-hearted fool, you say? That may be, but time will tell. If the sun strikes your face and you break into smiles, I’ll know the truth about you. A happy soul can’t help but grin when the light starts shining, so nice and warm, upon his face. That’s the mark of a gentle-man.

Now forget what I told you. Forget it all. I wasn’t in my right state of mind last night. You’ll understand me, won’t you? When I told you about the hole in my heart, and the way I cry when I think of you, it was only a manner of speaking. I am prone to trying out little phrases here and there, just to hear the ring of the thing. You mustn’t take me too seriously, for the sound is really more important than the sense, and there’s not much use in trying to puzzle out the rest.

With faith in your ability to forgive and, most of all, forget,

I remain

Your friend of sorts,

M

Jane—

If I cared enough to tell you, I would. But, my dear, you bore me with your tedious outlook on life and I can’t really be bothered to entertain the logic of fools any longer than I have to.

Does that sound harsh? Well, it’s meant to. I don’t get through to you when I speak in coddled words, dressed up in the art of being quaint. What you need is a proper dose of truth—the bluntest sort you can find. Your stomach has grown too weak with your diet of niceties and milk. You’ll need something meatier in you if you ever wish to take your place in the halls of a greater house than the one you’re in.

Don’t argue with me. At least give me a moment to explain. Yes, yes, I admit, you’re not a stupid girl. Your head has some interesting thoughts floating around; they’ve put in an appearance every now and then. But most of the time, you’re inclined to be lazy with yourself, letting the good thoughts wander off into the unknown and dressing yourself in emotional mudrooms instead.

Don’t pretend it’s not true. You know full well what I’m getting at. You’ve gotten yourself into enough tangles to blush with shame at the mention of them. You’re a smart girl, but a silly one, and you have a lot of growing up to do. This all sounds sharp, I know, but the thing you need is a cold, hard slap of truth. That’s the best way I know for getting a girl to grow up fast.

Well, you can’t be troubled with such things, I see. I guess I’ll take my wisdom where it’s wanted, and leave it to fall deaf on the ears of the ones who need it most.

Mrs. T

Dearest L,

Can you put into words the sound your heart makes when you’re about to meet the man of your dreams? Or the gurgle in your stomach that precedes the long walk down the aisle on the one day of your life when everyone is looking straight at you? How can the world be so full of impossible people when the people I’ve met seem to confine themselves to what’s plain and possible, in the squarest of senses? You know me—when I get into a mood like this, all I can do is spit nonsense at you. I hope you’ll forgive the mess.

A hundred people came to the play. They sat down in old red chairs with plastic armrests and started making little noises—the kind that come when people have to sit still for longer than they’re used to. Coughs, sighs, rustles of candy wrappers—that sort of thing. Halfway through the show, right before the actors took their break, a man began to snore in the back-left corner of the room. His snores were big and grumpy; it sounded like he had a lot on his chest that he could only get out when he slept. A woman sitting behind him poked him with her umbrella and he jumped awake. He didn’t look too happy about the whole affair. But the woman’s umbrella, one must admit, was rather a bit too pointy for putting anyone in a particularly cheerful mood.

If you could see the people I talk with on a daily basis, you’d be amazed. Not because there’s anything especially remarkable about the conversations they have, but because their eyes are all fastened to their heads with a singular sort of piety. No, that’s not the right word. With a singular sort of… vision? Who can say? The only thing I’m trying to get at is that I’m lonely here without you and wish you would join me soon.

Love always,

E