the questions will come at a pace so careful but probably not careful enough. i want to send you a letter. real paper with real ink. sometimes i stop myself from saying. as it is easier to write than to say, it is also easier to send by distance. safe from an instant reply. the sweetest place to find yourself lost.
why i am shy, what a question. um... well, i have anxiety in a general way. wearing my heart on my sleeve gets me into trouble so i guess my natural response is to be small, to hang back. shyness is a refuge, however cursed it makes me feel.
danger is the word no... actually it's the word maybe. i don't think i can take anymore murky water. i want to know what's underneath, exactly the shape, the exact tone. or i will know nothing at all and bob along, one beautifully fucked up head in the water. danger is in the needing. it shines a light further in than all others. danger is most in repeating the past. this is most tender and fragile, and that which we press so hard against.
you're asking about a specific idea, i think as much you've gathered. i can't take the pot off the stove; fast fizzles the boil of water. i can't take the lid off the pot. what if there is nothing inside? i'm trying to mold the proper branch of time. schooling myself not to force this all. choosing a better material. be gone silly weak thin wire.
i've felt watered down the past few days but i am striving for concentration. no matter what i do today, i'll be short. this is not to say i am spiky or sharp or squished or blunt. i'm not even upset. some days are just meant to go on without remark. this feeling, it says this is either a day i will vividly remember or a day i've long been meant to forget.