Sinking and Swimming
I don’t know if you recieved my last letter. And I sincerely hope that you don’t throw this one away without opening it. Maybe you don’t live here any more. Maybe I haven’t tried hard enough.
I’m different now. I know that’s probably hard for you to believe, and I know that it probably sounds insincere. But it’s the truth. After you burned all of my bridges, I realized that fire can be deadly, but it can bring new beginnings as well. I’ve picked up your pieces.
Maybe you haven’t noticed. Maybe you haven’t read my letters. Maybe I’m talking to myself. But I’m trying now.
I’d be lying if I said that sometimes I didn’t miss you. But I’d also be lying if I said this all hasn’t been good for me. Cleansing, even. I almost needed it.
I don’t take things for granted any more.
It came down to sink or swim, you know? And after the intial floundering, I realized that I could swim on my own. I don’t need you to hold me up any more.
I just, I miss you, you know?