Dear... Souls
I write. I like to write - it's therapeutic.
I write to people when I can't speak to them, share the words that I cannot say aloud because those words fail me whenever I try. In particular, most recently, I write to three people - one whom is gone, one whom is present, and one whom is yet to come.
The one who is gone is my father. My father died when I was five years old, committing suicide in our garage. I write to him now as an adult, sharing all the things he has missed over the years. Sharing the things that I am too scared to tell my mother, but still want a parent to know.
The one who is present is the man who I love - but whom I am not too sure loves me back anymore. We've been together a little over a year, have known each other for two, but have been through ten years worth of life together. I write to him because he is hard to talk to now. He spends more time with his eyes glued to his iPad, filtering through apps that he told me he'd delete over and over again. Keeping his secrets because he thinks I can't handle his shit, but expects me to be an open book when I know for a fact that he can't handle mine.
And the one who is not yet here is the baby I wish to have. The baby I've been struggling to conceive - and though I'm only twenty-one, time has always been against me. Luck... luck has always been against me. So I write to my baby in hopes that the spirits will hear me. I don't believe in god, but I believe that my tipuna (ancestors) are around me and I hope that they can see, feel and know how much this hurts, every time I check a pregnancy test and see that it's negative. Again.
I write to souls because it’s easier than writing to a person.
People judge. And I don't need judgement.
I just need them to see.
And I am struggling.