You know who you are
1:03 p.m.

I write letters. Letters, and letters, and then I write letters. Some of them are filled with love, undying embers that burn and smolder in my heart eternally...some of them are filled with despair the likes of which I think few people have seen, the kind of sadness that fills to the brim, overflows onto the carpet, and just drowns out everything...and some of my letters are filled with confusion, directionless wishes with no chance of being heard, dreams that I had once but which I can't quite remember enough of to make them come true...yes, some of my letters are like that. And where do they all go? Where is the sounding board for all of the nights when I can't sleep for the lonesome echoing inside of my own brain? Where can I turn when I look around me and see that there's no one, there's nothing?

I come here. I come here and lay my letters down to rest with so many others like them. I sail them off on this cyber-sea of secret words. And it helps. It has helped. I don't feel so alone amidst all of this anonymity. I don't feel so isolated.

So, thank you. To all of you who write your letters, and all of you who post them for others like me to read. Thank you for being out there, for being alive in the world with me, and for having thoughts and dreams and fears and hopes. Thanks a lot.

Yours truly,

Me

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