Dear __________
I am writing you at this late hour of the night in search of an answer I am pretty sure you won't give me so soon. These months have been crazy and I know you have been going through hell. As Winston Churchill said, ''keep going.'' Even hell has a limit and it comes to an end.
I have noticed you are very worried about lots of things, such as your business, your future job, your future plans and you are still feeling a bit lost regarding the decisions you will have to make in a near future. Take a deep breath. Do not panic, it will not help you at all. I know you try with all your heart to follow it but sometimes we get confused by all this mess. It's like a huge fog running through your ideas and making it harder to see what you already feel. When this happens, my advice is: go to the sea. He will have all your answers, I know that. You have grown your way with the Sea watching it and he knows all your truths. Trust him a bit. He knows everything you are going through. For he is God as well. Ok, ok... the Universe. I know you don't really like to name everything and you'd rather call it Nature, Universe, Energy. Go follow those, right now. Haven't they helped you before? I know they have and I'm certainly not the only one who knows it.
This too shall pass. Oh, how poetic of me to say something I, myself, seem to not understand intererly for we all make the same mistakes again, and forget to remember what we have learnt before. May this not seem too disturbing.... what am I saying, it's with you I am writing to, not some nayve or dumb young girl. You are young but your soul is so old. I know. I feel the same way.
What I am basically trying to tell you sweetie... is that, we all need a shoulder to cry on. We all need someone there who can dampen our pain. The worst part of this suffering is the one in which we need to clean up all the little crumbs that are still clinging to our veins. The blood still flows you know, but the crumbs... there they are. Not looking like they're going anywhere. Like if their place is there, inside your aorta or something.
You, my dear, need to cry. You need to cry and feel all that noisy and annoying pain that is there, acting like it's not screaming, like it's just singing a pretty song in your heart. Yeah, that one that always comes to your head and it's not even that pretty anymore. It's just that one song. Again. And again. On an endless replay.
You also need to tell them who you are. Who your hair is. Who your mind is. Who your soul is.
You don't need to show them, it's not about show off and you know it! It's about telling. Telling who you are, if anyone ever questions. Telling who are your pale white bare hands turned up to the sky begging for something you don't know how or where to find anymore. Tell your name to anyone who puts it in doubt.
But only tell when you feel like you want to, just so you won't be holding that weight alone. Who you are shouldn't even be a weight. It should be a feather. And it is a feather. Just like you are.
Now that I have said (I think) everything I had to, let me introduce to you. Or shall I say, let me introduce you? Or both? Who am I? And who are you?
Who are we? You know who you are. I know who I am. Let's tell them.
Yeah, well... Go fuck yourselves. This is me.
Much love,
Joana
