Dear Jaime,

I received your letter the other day. It is wonderful to hear from you, it has been too long. I myself have been doing well, and I know what you mean when you say there’s something wrong with this world. I feel it in the endless chatter, a life full of litter and you just want too bring out a lighter...burn it up, turn it to gold, make a wish on that falling star before your life gets too old. You’re waiting and praying; are you living just to die? Sitting cross-legged on the marble floor watching them waltz by. Wanting a dance. Longing for a chance to love.

You’re lonely, cold, and unsure. Tears of the unhappy moisten a face; a face forgotten? Now you’re laying down on your path of leaves, fallen and withering on the seeping cold ground. Leaves like your emotions: dieing, lost to the world, ever passing on by. And you want to tell your friends: if you’re going to walk on water, walk to the ones who are drowning and give them a hand, along with this warning: Beware, stay strong, more storms are coming, thunder and lightning tearing the lining of all your being. But normally, they don’t. They just keep walking. Life’s like a river: always changing its course. Hope, like that child wanting a toy; bashed by a world too poor to cope.

Words written in sadness are often riddled with a truth; they speak of all the longing for the things that are not for you. A poet writes words in a funny sort of way, and the teacher interprets those words in another kind of way. And you would think a friend could read the lines that are not said. And understand the tears wasted with no shoulder there.

Time is the engine driving your soul. It’s rusting, yet running ever so fast. As if it’s a race…a race for what will be last. Secrets and sadness run through it’s pumps, driven to madness, refusing to shut down. Eyes that give away all that’s not to be shared, in a life that is dealing only a pair. Lean back in the pillows of feathers and nails; pray for a soft landing just over the next hill. Hope that can’t glisten might just need to get sunshine; like a flower after winter, it races to live its life, blooms in it’s splendor but lasts only a little.

A penny for a thought, oh, would you be rich. Confusion is guiding you though a day. Something is wrong, you feel it in your being: a hollow endless moaning. It’s one thing after another, all bad things come in threes. So why not take the song to heart? “Take the good and the bad, add them together, then divided them by two, and live well.”

Soon, Jaime, I will be leaving behind this stupid place of rumors and crushes and broken hearts to drift on clouds out of reach of the world’s tinted touch. The wind is changing, just like everyone around me. Growing up makes us bicker and mistrust. As tearful misgivings sting in your eyes, there comes a new understand of what it’s like to be alive. It’s amazing how much better things seem with the sun in the sky, and a friend at your side. Don’t become part of the screen this world hides behind …where they justify all their wrongs in their heads, for they are the living dead…

And with that said I must go. Sorry that was so long, it’s just so hard to find people to talk to. I miss you very much, and I hope you’re doing well.

Your Friend Forever,

Anne