Dear Writing: a Love Letter (sort of…)
Dear Writing,
I hate to be dramatic, but we need to talk. There are some things I need to get off my chest, things I’ve been meaning to share with you for some time now, but haven’t had the balls. The truth is, I’m afraid it will run you off, and I can’t imagine my life without you in it. Just the thought of that scares me to death. Seriously, please know everything I say comes from a good place, and that I really, really care about you — enough that I’m willing to share the truth, even though it makes me nervous. So here it is, guts and all…
First of all, you drive me crazy. CRAZY. Most of it is in the good, I-can’t-stop-thinking-about-you-day-and-night-teenage-girl-obsessed kind of crazy. Really, it’s true. I think about you all the frickin’ time: At work. At home. When I sleep. When I can’t (usually your fault). When I’m driving. At the gym. In the shower. (Man, do I think about you a lot in the shower. Sometimes, I’ll stand there fantasizing about you until the water goes cold and I’m out of soap and…oh, wait, sorry, that’s kind of creepy, isn’t it?)
The point is, I think about you a LOT, and it’s mainly about our life together. What it could be without all the crazy distractions, you know what I mean? Just the thought of that — wow, are you frickin’ kidding me? How great would that be? I can see it all so clearly, too. I’d rise early (but maybe not too early—let’s not get nuts here — like somewhere around seven or eight) to make a cup of coffee and lounge on the porch until you wake up, maybe catch up on the news and read a magazine or two. Then, I’d wake you nice and slow with some eggs and toast and we’d plan out the day.
Wait. What? The day? The entire day? Get out of here. We can’t write all day. That’s crazy talk.
Yes, we can! And, get this, not just today— EVERY DAY! From here on out!
Holy crap, I can’t even imagine what that would be like. No more crazy time restrictions? No more jamming you into fifteen minutes here and there between doctor appointments or flirting with you at the mechanic while we wait for the car? And don’t even get me started on our home life. Just the thought of spending time with you without the kids around…whew, it gets me all choked up. Think about it, you wouldn’t have to be jealous anymore! I could actually spend time with my real family without you bitching that I love them more, or that I’m always ignoring you, or that we’re growing apart…blahdy, blah, blah.
It’s so beautiful, right? So perfect I can barely stand it. And that’s the problem right there — it’s all a damn, cotton-candy-land fantasy.
Read the rest on Medium.