Letter 5

Dear you,

Do you ever hold your breath as you unfold an envelope that tells you something about your “status”? Are you in a cold sweat as you read whether you got accepted, or passed, or any sort of news reflecting something in which you were being judged?

I’m going to assume you’re nodding because I do. I wonder, though, if it will be different someday. In the future, when I have someone by my side, do you think it would be a calmer experience? Whether the news be good or bad, do you think it will be less nerve-wracking when the person who I chose and who has chosen me to love is there?

Or am I living in some pink world where the sun always shines? If I am, don’t ruin it for me. I think I’d prefer to dream.

I know we have yet to get to know each other all that well; this is only the fifth letter, but I have some sort of request…

The reason I’m writing this letter at this moment is because next to me sits my phone. On my phone, I have both an email and a text message with news. I know reality doesn’t change whether I open it or not; however, I find a place of comfort in ignoring it.

Foolish. I know. Fearing results, I have done my absolute best to achieve, makes no sense. Whatever the news should be, I shouldn’t change the way I feel about myself. It’s normal to find relief in the event of good news, and disappointment in the event of not-so-good news. However, I shouldn’t get the air knocked out of me, should I not get the answer I want. Right?

I’m rambling, aren’t I? I’ll get to my point.

I know above I described opening the daunting letter with the person, my person, but I don’t have them yet. What I’m trying to ask is if you wouldn’t mind opening the message with me?

Is that a complying nod? Faint smile? Is it safe to assume, yes?

Jeez, my palms are starting to sweat.

I should just open it? Is that what you’re thinking? It’s hard to read your future thoughts.

Okay. I’m going to look at my phone…

******************************************************************************

Okay. Okay. It’s okay. Good news.

What a relief. Oh gosh.

Oh my gosh. I can breathe.

Thank you. You know, for being here. You gave me the guts I desperately needed.

Yours Truly,

RCG

P.S.

If you need me to hold your hand through something too, just let me know.