Open Letter #29

Dear ——,

I’m here once again.

Not lost and lonely. Not tired either. No exhaustion from the turbulence of the world moving along around me. I’m in that place. That happy one I thought existed only beyond my dreams and in other people’s lives. Because I didn’t know that Heaven could be on an uncomfortable cloth seat with bad lighting and shit music playing in the background. I didn’t realize that the noise of other people could be so soothing and I certainly didn’t think I’d actually come to one day enjoy the cold.

But here, hopefully not just this once, I learned the true meaning of recovery. I basked in the glory of being so filled with happiness that the word brimming seemed inadequate. Of feeling so entirely loved and accepted that my flaws and all my insecurities suddenly didn’t matter—perhaps they never did.

Everyone deserves to be loved, they say, though not everyone will have the privilege. There were days I thought I wouldn’t have it either. Weeks when I wholeheartedly believed no one would ever see me the way I fantasized in my head. Months of pure nothing. But for reasons beyond comprehension, your presence quieted every single voice, every thought. Until even that doubting monster in the back of my mind was eased into a state of… well, not peace, but something that feels a lot like it.

During the early hours of January second, when the rest of the world was still drunk out of their minds and motionless in bed, sleeping off the final dregs of another year. We stopped by that overpriced airport store to buy what must’ve been our fifth bottle of water as we waited until whatever accident responsible for the flight delay passed—remember? I hope you do. I wonder if you remember what came after as well. When you fell asleep on my lap, comfortable, safe, content. Almost to the point of offense, really.

Between the easy lines of your face and the exhaustion that curved my shoulders downward, I wonder why all I could do was smile. Very stupidly at that. The world just seemed so beautiful then.  I knew it was because of you. Your quiet breaths were the only thing that mattered. From the steady rise and fall of your chest to every minor twitch, I memorized it all. It was so easy to focus. The weight on my shoulders didn’t feel quite as heavy that day. Or perhaps it was because I had a reason to stand a little straighter… yes, I like that explanation. I’ll go with that.

Oh, I adore you.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

—N. Rinth


6 thoughts on “Open Letter #29

  1. Wow, you’re really good at this! Hope I could write like you! My mind is always busy, but I don’t know how to put my thoughts in words.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Well, thanks. I’m glad you like my work. It takes a lot of practice. Writing, I mean. But things like my open letters are usually just emotions I let flow. Roll your thoughts enough times in your head and you’ll be able to do it, too. 🙂 Just give it a shot.


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