Re: [postcard: gin & tonic]
[With an air of irony, on a thick sheet of printer paper in black ink: ]
Are you asking if I'm religious? I'm not. That doesn't mean that I don't believe love is something greater than both itself and our own reality. Beyond this world and the now, yes.
The letters to my mother mostly had to do with me asking if she would like me to visit her while she was incarcerated. I worshipped her, being the only parent I knew. She was not amenable to having me visit. She was not a great mother.
I don't think I need to ask you. I don't think heartbreak makes me collapse so much as it confirms some sense of unworthiness that I've suspected for a long time. I know you're not a therapist, and I'm sorry if I've made you feel like you have to balk at the desperation of my words.
Truth be told, I think I might be unintentionally misrepresenting myself. It was hardly about a dozen connections at once -- I've found I love openly, but not twelve beds at the same time. I swore off love and then fell deeply into it, all in the same night. I think the most I ever loved at the same time might have been two.
Simply, Tonic
[In thick, square caps that bleed through to the other side of the paper:] I want to do to you what spring does with the cherry trees.