Re: postcard: castor & pollux.
[The return with lined paper again, and with a wax stamp on the envelope that was purchased especially for the ocassion.]
Castor,
Is everything okay? Do we know each other well enough in our anonymity for me to ask that? I think the man in the postcard is seeing something he missed. He's known her forever, and he never realized he wanted her until that moment when he looks over and realizes, with a really sad smile, that it's too late. Why was the timing good? Does it have anything to do with your unsteady handwriting? The colors on your postcard are beautiful. And I think you're right about passion over apathy. I know so many people that stay in relationships because it's comfortable or because they love each other or because it's the right things, but they're all unhappy. I don't want that. I don't want just okay. I would rather take anger than nothing. Maybe I'm idealistically thinking I can find someone who will be passionate about me. Maybe I just want passion without any of the other stuff. I don't really know. I think about it sometimes, but I don't have an answer. But I want to clarify that I don't want the type of passion that hurts. I don't mean pain that feels good. I mean relationships where people tear each other down. That's terrible. I know what that feels like, and no one should be in that type of relationship.
Why did you have hatesex if you don't like it?
Don't worry. I only smell gasoline when I'm in a car and pulling into a gas station, but the scent is a good one. I associate it with leaving and escape and freedom. Have you ever run away? I won't hold your hypocrisy against you, not if you don't hold the fact that I really am kind of a nut against me. But I hope it rains a lot this summer so you can get more good nights of sleep than it sounds like you got in the past. Maybe I'll take my roadtrip to the ocean, and once I'm there I'll sleep on the sand. I don't like coffee.
People don't understand. They tell me things from their own viewpoints, and they don't understand mine. Okay, that answer's a lie. I'm just scared of being honest. The universe promised me it was good and kind and that I could have a happy ending. It made me think people helped each other to cross the street, and it had me convinced that I was going to find a job I loved and someone to marry. None of those things are true. They never tell you that people die young, and they don't tell you that murderers kill people, and they don't explain that terminal diseases swoop in when you least expect them. They never tell you the bad things, and then you expect all the good things.
I promise to send you pictures if you still want to hear from me by the time I go, and I don't know who I'd take. It's all a dream, and in a dream I can take anyone, right? That's a lot of options.
I don't feel guilty, does that mean I'm not human?
My happy ending has a little house far out in the middle of nowhere. I don't even want to ride into town for groceries. I guess I want to be one of those crazy off the grid people. I want to not exist unless I want to exist. What does your happy ending look like?
Yours, Pollux
PS: I would fight, but I think my version of fighting might scare you. I think you're a better person than I am, Castor. PPS. Send me a memory?