# 9 || Dear ______,

"She was extending a hand that I didn’t know how to take, so I broke its fingers with my silence."

Extremely Loud, Incredibly Close, Jonathan Safran Foer


how, amid all your intelligence and imagination, did you let yourself become this way? what drives you against change and honesty and integrity? i see it must be easy to live the way they do and be the way they are, but don't you want to be more? i'm not talking about success or satisfaction but some kind of hazy serenity and harmony within yourself. the kind that helps you fall asleep at night - it's your ticket to Neverland. the fact that we're all inherently selfish can't really be helped because we do all live inside our solemn skulls - but there really is a lot of room for perspective and compassion, i promise. c'est l'un de ces lettres d'amour bizarres que tu ne sera jamais lire, parce que nous étions les condamnés cerfs dans les phares dès le début. if i don't start to stop right this very instant, this rollercoaster might very well be the end of me.




to be continued . . .