I doubt that the format of this letter brings any true romance to what I am about to say, as typed words and printed letters are harsh and unfeeling. In this day and age, however, I suppose that this is a faster and easier way than paper and ink, a letter scratched out lovingly by hand. Don’t read it as such…as sterile and unfeeling. For the words I put down here are the same, if more fluid, than those of anything I could possibly write using the more traditional methods. And please don’t be daunted by the flowery prose that I am using, as presently I am in a strange, floating mood that leaves the room for nothing but softness and exaggeration of expression in what I feel.I’m sitting here at home looking through what seems like a whole other lifetime of “stuff” and I’m thinking of you. I’m thinking of you and I like what is running through my head. My heart is presently jumbled; anxious, ill suited for simply sitting around with nothing to do. I want a change somehow, and I do not know where, or how, or why. All I know is I’m worried and the thought of you can no longer make it better.To say that things in my life are changing would be an understatement. To say that they are constantly doing so would be a bit of a lie. As there have been times when I have been stuck in the same rut, floating about in a sea of ennui and non-movement. Still, I’m afraid of change, to be honest with myself and with you. I’m terrified of it. I’m a creature of habit and though on the surface I can appear chaotic and unpredictable, I find solace and comfort in that which is stable, that which does not rock the boat, as it were.But paradoxically, that same comfort is what kills me, what rips apart my creativity and dulls every sense I lay claim to. You changed that and I was and am no longer sitting still, I’m moving forward, sometimes moving in to something unknown and...
