Monday, March 30, 2009

Letter #7

Dear big love,

I was always lonely in movie theaters, right as the lights dimmed, until I met you. I can barely explain why, It doesn't make much sense, but as the audience disappeared, I acknowledged the lack of your presence (or existence) in my life. Then we met and I havnt felt it since.
I always thought snoring was pretty much the grossest noise you could subject your ears to. You know, that congested, cloggy kind of snoring, like the noise is about to wake you up from a deep sleep. When your loud snore became a comforting noise for me to fall asleep to, I realized I must have been in love.
I was at my parents house recently cleaning out my drawers and setting things in piles; use, save, and give aways, when I came across a box of old letters. You were always much better at love letters than I was. I found a painting of reindeers your sisters had made for me, a robot ornament. I wondered if the deterioration of our relationship, and the effort to be friends afterwards, had been too damaging to ever be in eachother's lives again. And I think about it every day.

Brooklyn, Female, 25

Letters of lost love always make me a little sad. I think almost everyone has experienced that feeling you get after you've let something great slip out of your life; when you start believing that you are truly meant to be together. I, myself, have fought against that feeling. This reminds me of a Citizen Cope song, Youtube "Sideways," this song represents my opinion on this letter and how I empathize with it.


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