Open Letter Series: #3

"It's so hard to forget pain, but it's even harder to remember sweetness. We have no scar to show for happiness. We learn so little from peace."

-Chuck Palahniuk

To the girl who writes the way most people bleed:

Silly creature. You spend so much time memorializing your sorrow, living your life like an act of catharsis. Like your heart is an apology. Like your knees were made for bending. For groveling. You have carved regret into the soles of your feet so everyone you meet can see where you came from. You wear your body like a tombstone. You write love stories like eulogies. You imagine your pulse as an unwinding clock but, darling. You are not a machine. You are neither simple nor precise in the way of clocks and engines. Your heart is a clumsy cog: it flutters/sinks/breaks/swells/races at every slight provocation.     

Don’t let your sorrow diminish your dimensions. Please. Write your joy.

Remember the lattice of steam on the window, your lover hoisting you onto the kitchen counter. Autumnal downpours beating against the skylight. Tangling your fingers into the soft, straight hair hidden under her curls.

Remember the simple luxury of mozzarella, fresh basil, and sweet tomato. Thick-crusted bread dripping balsamic vinegar. Cheap red wine and mason jars. Touching a stranger’s hand for the first time. Settle into a loose circle, shuffle the playing cards. Watch Dali masterpieces snap together in new arrangements.

Bullshit is a game for liars. I mean, it's an educational game.

Deal the deck. Read these new humans. Study their body language, learn their ‘tells’. Derive meaning from a crooked smile or a tightening around the eyes. Memorize their names and signs.

Scorpio, Scorpio, Libra, Leo, Sagittarius, Scorpio, Leo, Piscean Aries, Capricorn…

Analyze your own behavior, the way you can swagger lies into the circle but furtively sneak in truths. Strive for neutrality, mask your deceptions. That’s the name of the game. You are grateful each time you are caught in the act. Assume this says something positive about your character. Allison is an open book; soon she’ll hold the whole deck. You love her for the way she prefers the truth. You love her for the way she smiles apologies when forced to bluff.

Remember the quiet after everyone disperses. How loudly fire chatters against a backdrop of silent camaraderie, stretched on your bellies filling in crossword answers. Outside the dark gathers momentum. Outside the wind sounds like every cliché wind sounds. Outside the rain tests the parameters of physics and metaphors. It’s raining buckets/sheets/cats and dogs.

Remember swathing yourself in shades of blue, folding yourself into her long/lean body. She is a study in planes and angles. You have never been such a dedicated student; you have never loved geometry so much. Write your joy. Write her mouth across your sternum. Write the sound of rain on roof. Write body heat coalescing on the window panes of your bedroom. Write the walls yellow. Write your breathing easy. Write your heartbeat steady.

Write your joy.

-b