Letters To Someone

Dearest X,

White pages stare at me. I know that I must tell you what I hold in me. Let me explain my feelings--this thing I hold is a secret to me. There are two kinds of secrets; those that one does not want to tell, and those that one does not dare to tell. I do not dare let this secret escape, or else I will never see it come home again. And yet, I want to let it go. It weighs me down. I feel waves crashing around me, and the longer I sit here, holding this enormous truth, the higher the waves lash. They are so close to my head, so close to drowning me altogether. Let me impart this secret to you--oh! But never give it away!

This unspoken thing is a part of me. It wraps around my heart, my lungs, my brain. It protects them, yes, but it also puts so much pressure on them that they are numb and cold. I no longer think about this secret. I no longer feel its importance--except when I am around you. Then, the secret shrinks, tightening in my chest until I can't breathe and my heart must race to my recovery.

If only you could know what I wish to tell you without me saying a word. If only you would look in my eyes and pull the secret from their depths. I want to be rid of it--but I want it to stay close. I can think of no better captain on my sinking ship than you. You would pull me upright, and perhaps we could sail on as if nothing had ever happened. Oh, if only. How can my heart be in my throat and on my sleeve at one time? You must help me. I need you to save me from drowning in this!

Love,

M