Dear Anna,
I'm sorry I haven't written in a while. I've been thinking a lot. Maybe that's good, maybe I shouldn't have plowed on like nothing ever happened. Everything feels like a chore these days, played out as this sentiment might read to you.
I feel fragmented. There is no oneness in any of my feelings, they all feel disjointed. It's as if there's a diorama somewhere, and around it stand all of these people, all of them me, and all of them look at the diorama from different angles. They can never agree on aynthing, and so they go to lunch often, to ease the tension.
Maybe that's normal, maybe we all feel that, maybe we all feel that but don't talk about it—why don't we talk about it?—but then again how does one discuss these feelings? I'm not sure I can describe what I mean without feeling like you'll think I'm a total nutjob—I know you don't like this word, but what do you think anyone who's not as sympathetic as you are would call me when I told them how I feel?
I'm sorry, Anna. I don't want so seem confrontational. I've had a few good days. I've had bad days as well, but they're not worth talking about. On bad days I just feel like I'm chewing on stones when I talk, eroding my teeth, chipping them and swallowing them and swallowing the stones and the blood and not saying anything when I speak. On good days the stones are clouds, and they don't get in the way of my words.
How long will you be in the city next month? It would be nice to catch up. Getting a coffee would be nice. The place around the corner shut down, but I'm sure we'll find another good coffee shops. If Brooklyn was a pasture, coffee shops would be the grass.
I really wish Brooklyn was a pasture. The city takes its toll. I know that's why you moved away. You never told me, but I know. I wish I would've come with you. I wish I wasn't such a goddamn chicken.
I saw Karen the other day. I went to the post office on 4th, and she came out as I entered. I said hi, but she didn't respond. Maybe she didn't see me. Maybe it wasn't even her. Sure looked like her, though.
Anyway, I never know how to end these, so I will just leave you with all the love I have for the most beautiful anagram in my life. Thank you for always listening, and never judging.
Veit