Truths

The most meaningful thing I could give is my words. Unlike kisses that just last a moment, or spoken language that is quickly forgotten or incorrectly remembered over time, the written word is everlasting. You can keep it and tuck it away to re-read when you are feeling blue. And unfortunately for me, I can't take it back from you--whatever I wrote is in your clutches to keep. I suppose I could write a retraction to you, trying to take back what I said, but I would never do that, because then you could keep that too, and in three more years make me look like even more of an idiot.

That's why I've stopped writing to people. They don't appreciate what you've written them, and don't realize how hard it was to say what you were really thinking. Plus, I've never gotten a reaction in quite the way I had anticipated. I don't write to anyone--just a faceless internet audience where we can feign anonymity. You can pretend like you never read this, and when you look at me, I won't know the difference. It's okay, I won't hold it against you. The thing is, I've written all the letters I needed to, and I've revealed all the truths that were weighing on me. The words have already been written, I've just been keeping them to myself.