Dear Stranger,
The last letter I didn’t send isn’t that old. The ink has barely dried, and here I am again, bleeding the next onto the screen. That probably sounds dramatic, but it isn’t. For the first time in a while, I feel serene. I feel at peace. And you are a part of that.
You are always a part of me, it seems. Even when I want to deny it, brush you off, or push you away, you remain. You sit quietly in the background of my thoughts. I don’t always look at you directly, but I know you are still there. I feel you.
For a long time, I was filled with chaos. There was a storm inside me I couldn’t calm. I was the waves and the ocean, the sky and the clouds. I was the sun and the storm, burning and flooding at once. I was too much of everything, and none of it made sense. I carried so many emotions without knowing how to set them down.
But something shifted. Something softened. And now, clarity surrounds me like a slow breath I forgot I was allowed to take.
I imagine you’re wondering where we stand. That’s fair. I know I haven’t been consistent lately. I say very little for a while, and then I offer an invitation to come clean away my leftovers. I pull away for days, and then I open the door, even if only metaphorically. I say, “come to dinner,” knowing we both won’t act on it. But the offer is real. The intention behind it is real. I feed the people I care about. And I care about you.
No matter what I say, I like you. Quietly. In my own special way. Without expectations, but also not without hope that you feel the same.
The other night, I had half a mind to ask if you wanted to come stay. Just for a couple of days. Let the dust settle. Find your own piece of peace in a safe haven. Because somehow, breathing feels easier when you are near. Even if we don’t say much. Even if we say nothing at all. I carry the hope that I allow you to breathe easy too.
It’s not about romance. It never was. It’s something else entirely. A thread between us, older than us, surviving despite everything. It frays sometimes. It tangles. But it doesn’t break.
I just wanted you to know that you still matter to me. Not as a memory. Not as a mistake. Not as regret. But as someone who calms the noise. Someone who reminds me that, even when things are confusing or uncertain, there are constants. And you, strangely, are one of mine.
You give me peace, dear stranger. Not always, I’ll admit that. But often, you do. And I’m grateful for that. I’m grateful for your presence in my life, however it is shaped.
always,
Sweetie
reflections of an unquiet mind 