My Dearest Mathilda,
I think it's time that we had a talk. I know that you want love to find you. But you're just going to have to wait your turn. Even if it means that it never comes. You have helped me build a lovely little library from which you reign. Over time, you might just have me believing in myself yet.
My sweet girl. Our secret desire to be someone's muse, their soft spot, their dream come true. What's good for them. Oh, to find a love as other worldly as you are. My tiny chess player in a world playing checkers. The one who loves me gently from the deepest wounds. When they think, we are going to zig, we zag. And then when they think we're going to zag, we Zorg just to keep them all on their toes. What an alchemy of senses it would be if we were able to find another like us.
You are quite the saucy little minx. One with a secret need for emotional depth that rivels yours. Oh, what a comfort to know that one day, maybe you will be wrapped in arms that make you forget everything that happened before you were in them. To be in orbit of such a wonder as yourself. You have created for me a 3D printed version of every dandelion we ever wished on, and I have been such a shit. And no, that was not a suggestion that we sink back into ourselves again.
You asked me once if you annoy me. Slipping it into a sentence like it was weightless, and something in the casualness of that question told me it had been building since before you came to fruition. I wanted to dismantle every version of whoever taught you that we needed to be less. Because the only thing that comes close to too much, is watching someone edit themselves out of their best in the name of comfort.
To be a devil in a blue dress such as yourself for a day. What a wonder it is to watch as you use the curve of the U in SLUTTY as a lackadaisical afternoon hammock. Frankly, life is so much better when you're at the wheel. Even if we do have to wander the halls of our old vices to do it. I was amazed that it all smelled the same. A little less driven by the monkeys in Jumanji. A little cozier. The green velvet chesterfield is a nice touch.
You stick up for me in ways that most refuse. Mostly because they know you're the only one I will listen to. I have accepted that you are fully aware of what is best for us. Last night, for example, you took care of us by deleting the entire folder that housed memories I no longer needed to harm myself with. With a gentle, "Time has proven its point," every beautiful picture of a date night gone sour, every recording of the abuse, every screen shot to verify that even on our maddest of nights we couldn't have made that person up if we tried. Temu Jesus. Erased, with a proverbial FUCK HIM. Like a best friend knocking the phone out of your hand to stop you from texting an ex something or other and yelling at you that not only do you need to stop bedazzling and making pillows out of other peoples red flags, we need to stop trying to swan dive down a person's throat. That fucker was sure as shit not magenta and our ass is too big to fit. I get it now. The more you're helping me heal the more we realize that not only was everything we are feeling justified, but we have also way underreacted.
This might just be a letter to my madness, but we've gotten along much better once you told me your name. Thank you for allowing me to be softer the more I realize I don't have to worry about others abandoning us as long as I don't abandon you. You know how I love my cliffs. Thank you for that. The past six months have felt like I needed this to work its way out of orbit. We are healing. It's not linear, and I'm a pain in your asshole more often than not with my ways, but I love you.
Forever. Always.
Me
