Wrapping gifts is always annoying. I try to fold the wrapping paper just right so it looks nice. I always apply too much tape. It always seems like I just do not have enough hands to correctly wrap some gifts. Also it means that once I finish wrapping up the gift that’s it. Either they will like it or they will smile and say thanks. There is no turning back once the nametag is written on it and the last piece of tape is applied. Also once it is finished there is no longer any chance for mischief. It seems somewhat final. Like closing a book after reading the last chapter. You read about the problem as it slowly grew. The hero’s valiant search for the treasure or the prefect gift. Their conquest of the creature guarding it. Either they best it with swords, magic, or credit card. Then the trip home and returning to normal life. Then always the short chapter as they try to settle back in as they work around their house. Suddenly the adventure is complete. The gift is chosen. It is then sealed inside a box or just wrapped up. A nametag and a bow complete it as the book is closed. I try to wrap only a few gifts at a time. Otherwise the sudden loss of being able to change my mind can make me panic. So I always leave one or two for the last minute so I know the adventure is not quite over. Soon I will have to journey to faraway lands and search out my prize. Will I find a prince or will I find a new blender in the land of Wal-Mart? What creatures will I have to battle to obtain my prize? Shall it be a snooty cashier or will a dragon leap out from the toy isle and attack me while I am armed with nothing more than a wallet full of debt and monetary promises to a bank? Perhaps tomorrow I will go on about choosing wrapping paper.
I hate cleaning my room. Heck even organizing items as I often get sidetracked. It is just time consuming and since I keep getting sidetracked it often takes longer than it needs to. So many memories and things that I keep with me.
An old box fell to the floor tonight. It spewed open papers across my floor. I put away what I was trying to put in my closet and I bent over to look at what fell. Inside of it had a lot of old papers that I keep for memories. One of the papers was a worn out piece of paper that has been folded, and refolded, and folded, and wrinkled, and mashed, and even has a bit of water damage on it. I remember this piece of paper. I try to stop myself but I cannot. I bend down onto my knees and pick it up off the floor. My hands start to unfold it while my mind screams against the next course of action. My hands have held this piece of paper before many times. My eyes have read it over and over in the past. My mind each time would comprehend the letters and the sentences. The meaning of the letter is simple. Lots of things have happened to me from this letter. My heart was broken over and over again. Fresh memories brought forth to the front to relive in vivid detail. Words that jumble as I try to think of a response to the words long ago spoken. Even now I cannot think of a response. The words get stuck inside my throat as my heart expands and will not let a single breathe escape. I read the letter again. The one sent so many years ago. It was the letter that told me you were not and never will be mind. I read it slowly allowing the words to sink it as I also struggled with myself to prevent the next course of action. In the end I replaced the box on the shelf. The papers refolded and made neat so if I need to retried them I can. I read your letter again today. It made my realize how filtered I am compared to what I was. A sudden burst of emotion and release that I do not get anymore. The intensity of what I felt made everything else pale in comparison. It seemed back then when I did something it was with everything in me. I did not go halfway in the matters of the heart. These days I hold so much back to keep myself from falling apart. I do it to maintain my sanity and to keep me alive. After reading the letter again I wonder if I died that day and now I am just suffering slowly. What is life without loving like you’ve never been hurt? What is loving someone halfway? Why have defenses up to prevent you from being hurt when they prevent you from experiencing it to the fullest?
I read your letter today. It was when you said you could never love me. I read it word for word. I think I can now give a response to it. Though you will never read my response or perhaps even understand it after all these years. I read it over and over watching the tears smudge your writing. It is now that I say goodbye and I hope you can find someone that you can love.
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