I have yet to complete a single full letter to you, so my news will reach you over the world wide web. I am terrified to know whether you are in the world of the here and now or the world of strife so great it cannot even be named. I fear for you. You are living in that blue world. No longer your own, but a shell of the girl you once were. You fear love! You even fear the interpretation of love itself. Lost in a sea of everyone pressing and pressing and pressing on you for your own love to be crushed out into answers in haste. You are afraid because you need to empty it all from your cupboard of a heart, but you don't have time to sit and open it. My lovely Rain....When will you see that it is all a loss. Non of the pretty little things of life matter if you don't have the pieces to string up all the sparkly infinitesimal stars under the blanket of black. That deep darkness, blackness that slithers into you suffocating you and giving you a new form of oxygen! Seeming like a gift! A gift of self loathing in a wrapping paper all covered in selfishness! The stars...Rain, the stars...The smallest of moments that glows small like a dying ember. But there are millions of moments and millions of stars and so there are millions of embers! If you keep the string and string up all your stars and gather all the embers you have a black sky tattered! Rattled with the dazzling light that you have created! With nothing more than the thinking back and the hoping forward to when all those little embers will be a roaring raging fire and you can say you love as thou wilt. Don't lose the sting of regret, the pain of lost love, the delirium of indecisive thoughts, only let them be a reminder that you are here and you are now. You are one of my stars in the blackness, so brilliant.
It is a sad thing to follow blindly something you love. Yet that is what makes it so sweet...so exciting! The risk. The only risk of living is death. Don't say you are not afraid. What do you fear in trying to become something you wish! what is it that scares you so much from becoming who you are! Becoming is the closest action to raw existence that can be observed. Faith is an interesting parasite. History give example of women and men being pulled apart by horses for faith, for love. Mothers killing their own children rather than give them up. Fathers fighting their own sons and brothers for a piece of glory. No matter how many times we read and watch and know that death has followed the faithful, the reverent, the blind, we each of us has our faith. We fall in love, pray, study and worship. It becomes us. It becomes and exists.