10/31/10
Dear (Mentally Retarded – okay, I’m KIDDING) Gabriel,
I’ll make it extremely straightforward for your recovering neurons: All I requested was an email, a letter, something in words at least, telling me how you feel about me. I for one ramble on incessantly, it seems, and my brain goes hither and yon in such a random pattern that I don’t blame you for wondering what it was you were supposed to write. Ugh, scratch that phrase, “supposed to”. I wonder if I somehow put pressure on you to communicate in a way that is not your norm? I mean, you tell me you love me. I guess I could ask you to write me back with a reply to this question:
When you say you love me, what does that mean?
That’s it. I just want to know how you feel about me. But see, you’ve already started that, as you told me how blessed you are to have me in your life. That is manna from heaven to hear.
And, for the record, I like everything else, too. I like to hear about how you feel about things in general, like the music as FUEL. This isn’t an English paper, just a look inside Gabriel’s head (and an emphasis on how he feels about Violet) so all of that other random stuff is certainly welcome. Already I like your style of writing, so I look forward to hearing from you again.
And, please, if you’re somehow nervous about it, RELAX. I dig your vibes, too, sweetheart. They’re just like a foreign language that I’m learning to be fluent in. I’m not there yet, so it takes more effort, but it’s definitely rewarding. When words come, though, it’s like coasting down a hill on your bike after a trek to the top – effortless, and I see that I’m hearing my mother tongue, my first language, and it’s positively delightful. So, I hope that you’ve gotten some rest by now and are dreaming lovely dreams. See you in T minus 9 hrs and 55 minutes.
Love you,
Violet
© 2010
