a text I wanted to letter

G,

I’ve thought about what I said to you in your car and I still mean it – but I am frustrated. I didn’t say some things which I wished I had and the words I did say came out mixed up. I was nervous. You have always made me nervous but it is a nervousness that I have always looked forward to. I thought about apologising because I embarrassed you with my compliments. But I am not going to apologise. In fact, I look forward to the possibility of embarrassing you further. Like a North Korean dictator, I am stockpiling an armament of words hidden away in warehouses within crates that have printed on their sides; lovely, gorgeous, elusive, angelic, spirited, enigmatic, adorable, zealous, beautiful, accomplished, funny, graceful. I will organise them alphabetically and deliver them to you, one by one, from the podium of a sinister political rally in which you are the only audience member and can only reply with blushes. I want to embarrass you because you deserve these words and because your embarrassment only proves your virtue all the more. I regret telling you this when you are already juggling with supporting J, going to Japan and your own heart ache but as I said to you the other night you don’t need to say or do anything, I have no caveats.

I wanted to write this to you in a letter but I don’t know your address. We could still pretend it is. It would have been written on offwhite lined paper, sealed in an envelope covered in strange foreign stamps and written in the handwriting of a messy person that has made an effort to be neat. But I am assuming too much and maybe you don’t want to imagine this or any sort of message from me. If that’s the case you could instead imagine this is some telemarketing text which you can opt out of by replying with ́STOP.´

I realise this sounds ridiculous but I couldn’t be more serious.

C

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