A letter from Feb 04, 2025

Dear Fouad, you know I am very poetic right? I do love to romanticize things, so let me be. I miss you knowing you don’t, It feels a little embarrassing to hurt over someone who is numb to the sting of it. If you ever read this you’d think of me as dramatic but you always did anyway so please let me bleed my thoughts. I bought a cute green mug today, it reminded me of the forest, of spring and beauty, when I bought it I couldn’t help but think I wanted to tell you this, to tell you about my day. I wish to be angry at you because while I meant nothing to you, you meant a lot, you meant a whole evergreen forest. should I be mad at myself for latching into you, for tucking you into my heart with my favorite people or be mad at you for not echoing my name between your ribs. I choose to be mad at both, at me and you. Oh how I was ready to jump had you said the words, had you chosen to tug at my sleeve I would have let you seep into my veins and like weeds take over a garden I’d let your presence take over my heart. I do know this is for the better but knowing something is right doesn’t dull the pain, or stop the bleeding. You bleed with awareness, a reason for your suffering and a justification.