Things I Omit from My Letters so You Don’t Worry

Because I know you’ve got other things to worry about right now.

Me without you. Photo by Oscar Keys on Unsplash

I use your name as a spell against my sleep Demons.

I still have allergic reactions every day. I lied about them stopping.

I have nightmares.

I worry about you every day, and haven’t stopped (although I said I have).

I don’t know what to do with myself most of the time. But that is my permanent state. There’s no reason to keep reminding you; I think it’s a given.

I don’t have a plan.

My savings have run low.

I clench my jaw a little bit all the time.

Sometimes I wonder about other people, about maybe branching off to be with them, and then whatever this is would be in the past like so many other things.

I worry about if I can ever sleep in peace, and if being next to you would make that better or worse.

I don’t think I’m pretty enough.

My future is foggy.

I still go for long walks at night.

I’m always going to feel a bit restless, a bit like roaring, a bit raw.