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Saturday September 23rd 2006, 12:54 pm
Filed under: All Letters,Love Letters

Hello dear,

ďHowís your day going?Ē I ask you in my thoughts. ďHave you been sleeping well and eating right?Ē These are questions that will never actualize into words. ďWhat are your plans for the weekend, dear?Ē Inquisitive ponderings glaze through my daily routine of thought and have an urge to unmask themselves by way of my vocal chords. When a specific question haunts me long enough, I eventually answer myself as if the question was never intended to reach you and was posed from me to me. The lingering and looming questions must be answered, I feel. Otherwise Iíd be stuck on a sentence that would eventually fortify itself in my head, blocking the progression of other thoughts to come about. I once read that the human mind thinks approximately 2000 words per minute. Some words combine to make sentences. Others bounce around in solitude until other words replace the initial thought. Invisible secrets supplanting one another, the thoughts immured in our consciousness flow like a river. And even though one can never step into the same river twice, the refreshing knowledge that our vernaculars will continue flowing through our mind allows us to journey into the stream of thoughts without the fear of drowning in stale static waters. But these questions I pose to you cause dams in my river of thought. My wonders that plague me become busy beavers, blocking the flow of pensiveness. Therefore, I must break through these fortifications by answering questions that are originally intended for you. Moving on from this stream of thought, Iíd like to inform you about my decision to meet a new friend in Phoenix Arizona. Her name is Morgan and I met her on Myspace a few months ago. I initially thought she lived in San Francisco, as her profile stated, however she moved from CA to AZ a week before I first messaged her. Like you and I, Morgan came to San Francisco with her lover to build a new life together. They loved one another for approximately a year, but Craig, her boyfriend at the time, cheated on Morgan with two other women. He later claimed that he still loved Morgan at the time of his polygamous adventures, though she didnít believe him. And so, she left everything in her new life: her clothes, her job, her rental agreement, and moved back to her safety net in Arizona. She feels like she failed at Love, and maybe she did, but isnít that the point anyway? Can one truly understand the nature of Love without the completeness of Love’s ending? Morgan and I have similar stories in terms of how abruptly our lives have changed as well as how hard these break-ups have been. Our lives parallel on the aspect of disastrous love lives. And so, Iíve bought a plane ticket to go visit Morgan on July 7th. Iím reminded of the first time I met you because of the similarities of our initial visit. I enjoy traveling to meet new romantic interests. The horizon becomes so much more beautiful when one looks outward. There becomes an emotional attachment to a new city of Romance. Actually, I canít travel to San Jose without thinking of the wonderful times you and I shared. The aftermath of these nostalgic memories are feelings of sadness and sorrow. Therefore, San Jose and I donít play nice with one another anymore. I canít enjoy myself in that city. I think San Francisco has become another location that I wonít be able to travel back to without feeling intense and sometimes conflicting emotions. It is my hope that I donít come back to this city, back to you, for a very very long time.

-Your dearest.

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