I haven't liked it! Randomness is my life, it's what I know, suddenly I find myself occupied to the point of disraction and sleeplessness, over just one thing. I have to say it has thrown me. Unfortunately, this thing (strawberries for the purposes of the rest of this post) was not something I could discuss with anyone. Almost like a bowl of sour strawberries served to you at your mother in laws, with no spoonful of sugar to help them go down, you just have to grin and chew through each difficult mouthful until the whole bowl has gone. Pretend that they are the best thing you have ever tasted, there is nothng out of the ordinary with them at all. All the while, your stomach is churning and your thoughts are over ruled to the point of distraction from the polite table conversation that you are supposed to be following.
This had to stop, enough is enough, I want my randomness back! It was than that I had a light bulb moment. Back in my youth, which seems a really long time ago now, during periods of serious teenage angst I used to write letters to the aether. Letters that I would pour my heart and soul into but would never see the light of another humans eyes.
Some I addressed to my Dad, I would ask him things that I felt only a Dad could answer, I would tell him what my day had been like. I would simply get the things that needed to be said off my chest, but for some reason was unable to formulate the words to express verbally.
Others were to the boys I 'loved' (read - stupid teenage infatuation), of course I never spoke to them directly, but in these letters I would profess my undying love to them and then destroy it. Well you wouldn't want it falling into the wrong hands now, I mean the person it was addressed to might read it for crying out loud. My preference was to burn them, a bit like the flame of a birthday candle, carrying my dreams and desires off to be made reality. Then the next week I would write a whole new one to the next boy and so on and so forth!
So this week, for the first time in a very very long time, I wrote a cathartic letter. It will more than likely never see the light of day, but it felt good to describe my strawberries in such minute detail. To spell out what I wanted from my strawberries; the firm flesh as it gives way to my teeth, the warm juice as it runs onto my lips and the sweet smell as I slowly chew to savour the flavour. A whole bowl of sweet strawberries, fresh from the feild in summer. To pause on the thought of the next bowl, the pleasure of picking them fresh with the warm summer sun on my back, the sound of the flies and bees as they buzz from flower to flower. It felt good to describe it all. Whether it will help me sleep any better is yet to be seen, but I sure hope so!
Have you ever written a letter like this? Did you keep them, did you destroy them or did you send them? How did it work out if you sent them?