When Will Everything Be Alright?

Dear K,
Did you write that last letter to me? Or was it me that it wrote it to you? I'm still so confused. Did I do that when I was drunk? Did I hit you? Did you just pretend that you hit yourself when it was really my fist? Is my nose bleeding or was it your nose? We've got to figure this all out before everything comes apart at the seems.

Anyway I'm better now, I think. Maybe. Out here in the mountains I don't sweat at night, and I'm shivering in the morning even though it is summer still. The peaks aren't even white yet. The shack that I live in doesn't have insulation and there are holes that let moths in when I stay up writing with a flashlight because there is no electricity.

But I'm better. I think my insides are fixing themselves. I think that everything is going to be better.
It was nice to see you for a while though. Even though when you were around it felt like you were further away, it was nice to dance with you and maybe watch everyone around us age a little while we got confused about who was who and why we ever met.

But I'm better now.

How are you?

Have you left yet?

I'm going to miss you.

And I hope this isn't sappy, because I mean it platonically:

Love,
K