To my future lover,
So, you fell in love. Found more in me than the simple girl in oversized sweaters. Maybe I learned how to sweet talk, a trade I still have not yet mastered. But in any case, you’ve come to like me. What a mistake.
Before you fully immerse yourself in the strange world that lies beyond my green eyes, there are a few things you need to come to understand. Being with a writer is a difficult task that may leave you alone and dry, or could leave you to drown.
Don’t be alarmed if you see me shift through emotions, often times it’s because I’m channeling a character. You see, the people I write about are more realistic than fleas on dogs, or branches on trees. They live in me and hold a pieces of me within their growing and changing being.
When you see me crying in the middle of the night, huddling over the small wooden desk in my room, illuminated by a subtle yellow light, please don’t fret. The tears pouring from me have nothing to do with you, I’ve just come too close to a story that when it ended I lost a friend.
If you see me stranded on the cold wood floor, collapsed on an island of papers and pens, please come to me, kneel by my side and hold me in your arms, whether delicate or strong, and lightly tell me I can get through this. The hardest part of my life is feeling incomplete as simple words strain to flow through the tip of my black pen. I try to keep myself sane by replacing the pen; maybe it isn’t actually me. But I become quickly overwhelmed when the words stay jammed in my already crammed mind where they begin to spin and attack my simple self.
Don’t be distracted by the curly blonde haired girl in oversized sweaters. The smile I give you may be sweet and tender, but once you open my mind, please step delicately inside. It’s madness in there and I already have a headache.