Dear Traitor

Dear Traitor,

It's hard, sitting down to begin a letter. Usually I'm writing stories or essays for class, not learning to pour a bit of myself into words intended for another's eyes. There is no formula for this kind of letter. I don't have anything I particularly need to say. I have words, but they're all backlogged, and I can't straighten them out enough to make sense. I think it's expected that somewhere I'll say I'm sorry, and I am, but the apology isn't for anything I've done. It's for the humid weather and the splintering friendships. It's for people who don't know any better, and for those who do, but couldn't act on that. I'm sorry...for something. For what? That's a blank I can't fill in.

I could go on for pages, writing about nothing, just to put the feel of me in the page. I could put down the memories, but that's nostalgia, and I know that now. Too often I live in the past, I guess. There's this quote I like... "Live for the future, in the present, with your past." And other: "Live in the present, forgive your past." Both, applicable. There's been a tremendous amount of heartache this year. Not even this semester. This whole year...mini catastrophe's bringing some people close, keeping some people apart. In the wake of destruction... Silver linings... Rainbows. Friends, too.

If I was angry, you would have known. But maybe that's too soon.

Maybe what you need to hear isn't in my power to say. I always hated being out of the loop. It's so much harder to keep up with what's going on, and to make informed decisions. But maybe that's not what I need to be saying. It's like I'm supposed to tell a story but I don't know the main characters, the setting or the plot. It's like being lost in the tunnel, except without knowing it's a tunnel, just having a long, dark emptiness enclosed on two sides. Forward or back?

Your choice.