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dear k-

I've thought about posting several times over the past few months, but every time I brush the idea aside. It feels more and more like a diary rather than a correspondence. But let's be honest: we've been drifting in that direction for years.

I am actually happy you've been silent. I take it to mean you are happy. You are loved. You are in a good place. You don't need to vent your frustrations or fears, you don't need to sigh about missed opportunities and misplaced ambition, you don't need to while away the time. Someone is keeping your heart in a state of bliss, and for that I am glad.

I wrote a book. But you know that. It's published now. You always told me I needed to take my writing out of the desk drawer. Well, I've gone and done it now so I guess there is no turning back. The anticipation and anxiety I felt was probably inappropriate; I was wrong to think my writing would cause any commotion. It won't even cause a ripple. But at least I can say I tried. At least it is there in case anyone can find some good in it.

Speaking of writing, I've always had an awful time of writing if I feel happy and content. My most productive periods have always come when I have felt ill at ease. Restless. Depressed. Lonely. But now I think I am getting better at finding other motivation. I still linger on the melancholy when it comes to writing, but I'm slowly finding other channels of creativity that are healthier. Less anxious. Less unhappy. Things have been better these days, for the most part. Perhaps its the weather. It always feels good to get a little sun.

I hope you are doing well. Maybe some day I will hear from you again, and I hope it is positive.

Still friends after an ocean of time,
-k