Sent: 8/30/2001 11:23 AM
What is this sadness that whispers to me in the night? It’s something I wish I could thumbtack to the “Completed” bulletin board in my life. It’s exhausting, and, yes, necessary. Without pain, how would you know if you’re well? Of course, we easily master that kind of pain. But what about this sorrow that feels soulful in the way it seeps through every orifice of my body. No, no. Don’t worry. Luckily, it’s not contagious; however, I will say that it seems that everyone has a little of it in them. A germ that we can’t eradicate. Where’s pest control when you really need them?
Tonight, I am writing this under a gray velvet drape that is the sky. The sun is setting beyond the city, and stretching from the city’s dark shadows are beating red hearts: warnings, once upon a time; lighthouses to distinguish land from sky. For at night, when the sun crashes on the other side of the shadows, all will be black. Black land, black sea, black sky.
I came out here to feel alone. Alone. It’s something that’s far too comforting for someone who longs to not be someday. But alone I know well, and he has become an enlightening companion. He shows me so many things. The beauty of the railroad’s clickety-clack echoes in the silent night. The softness of the breezes’ trace. The warmth of the crisp, blue, snowrays flurrying from the moon’s outstretched arms. The masterpiece of clouds just beyond, unique illustrations on a matte washed blue, resting on the painter’s easel.
Alone provides me this magical experience. And it is just that. Magical. It is rare that I am with someone else and notice such things. However, perhaps, someday, alone will enjoy company. Of that, I remain hopeful.
