Monthly Archives: September 2015

Linear Trees

Telephone Lines Across Trees

took this while stopped in traffic. the one good thing to come out of being stopped in traffic besides learning all the words to the songs on the one cd in my cd player.

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Dear R.P.H. (Letter #12)

I’m transcribing a series of handwritten letters I wrote, but never sent. Read the previous letters here.

Dear R-

Do you know when I miss you? I miss you when I can’t sleep, and it’s three in the morning and my brain automatically calculates what time it is where you are. And I think that I can’t waste my time waiting for you like I used to do. Hoping you’d see me and talk to me.

I miss you when I’m drawing, and have no one to show it to.

I miss you when I think of you, which is becoming less and less.

I should never have given you me. Lord knows what you’ll do with what you know, who’ll you share a piece of me with. I lost control of that. That’s why I’m upset.

Dear R.P.H. (Letter #11)

I’m transcribing a series of handwritten letters I wrote, but never sent. Read the previous letters here.

Dear R-

Did you want someone who thought you were the sun, the moon, and all the stars? I would’ve been that for you. I would’ve loved you more. You would have had a person. I would’ve been able to give all this to someone. I would’ve given a damn when you needed me to give a damn. I would’ve been there for the stupid stuff – the stuff you didn’t think should’ve been that important. I let you in dammit. Now I’m back down to two. Two people to care about. And you’ve got me doubting whether I was made to love. Great. Thanks babe.

Dear R.P.H. (Letter #10)

I’m transcribing a series of handwritten letters I wrote, but never sent. Read the previous letters here.

Dear R-

She didn’t mean to hurt my feelings. I’m sure she didn’t. But I don’t have anyone else to talk to. God, I’m so deficient. And weird. And effed up. God, so screwed up. You shouldn’t have touched me with a ten foot poll after seeing my family. I’m so broken. Dammit, why weren’t you the one to be the one to understand me.

Dear R.P.H. (Letter #9)

I’m transcribing a series of handwritten letters I wrote, but never sent. Read the previous letters here.

Dear R –

I need to, I have to turn off my input sensors every once in a while. Does that make sense? I can’t take anymore. One day you’ll be interested in what makes me tick. But I just need to curl up in a ball, hold my knees and say, “don’t touch me, don’t touch me, don’t touch me.” I need to know you’ve got me. Like the ice skater who once came up behind me quickly to grab my waist and pull me along so we didn’t crash. “I have you.”

God I’m such a fool. What’s true about this? The person who lowers their barriers with reluctance, one more time, always regrets it. I should’ve never let you in.

I’ll do what I tell myself to do, one of these days. I’ll be all the things I think I should be. I’ll be lovely and perfect and I’ll stop relating to Dorothea.