Last Love Letter of 2022
Academic pretension can be a weir for emotional attachment. However, the more venerated thinkers always lead us back to sentimental honesty. Put yourself in the floating space between hard points, they say. Nothing is black and white, they say. This is how afraid I was of being perceived as emotional. I buried and then burned myself in the intellectual and today it paralyzes my ability to create art when I negotiate my feelings. Instead of book proposals I’m writing physical letters, today, and instead of sending them to you I’m sending them to people who admire emotional bravery.
I wish to be admired. I hope simply for a response.
A friend told me recently that you do not deserve my beautiful prose but I believe reality has no worth, no worthiness. Whether you deserve it or not, beauty is simply: there. I hope you see it, and in the meantime, my love letters will weave through the braid you’ve caused in my hands, with nothing compelling the leaves, the vapors, the fruit, the hold, to stand still.