Dear No One.
I want to go to a coffee shop, one that isn’t filled with a million other people, curl up in a huge red couch that sucks you in the minute you land on it, and write this letter. I’m not sure who it is addressed to, but it’s been writing itself in my head for days. At first it started out with the phrase “this is my truth”, but after that phrase repeated itself over and over again in my mind, I became less sure of what it actually meant.
My supervisor in the field gave me the most fitting advice on Saturday, and he delivered it with as much warmth and color as he does everything he says to me, “stop being so perfect will ya?! Take a rest, you don’t have to be perfect”. I’m thankful for this as I am most of the things he says to me.
So this letter, the one that holds my truth, in actuality holds what I am in this moment and all of my imperfections. It’s a bumpy road figuring out how I was broken and what to do with the pieces. It’s not the truth, it’s just what I know right now. Tomorrow the truth might look different, it might be a little less jagged and it might hurt a little less.
I’m so tired of not having the time to sink into couches and write letters to no one…
Graduation is May 12th. I stumbled across Lincoln Center (where I will be graduating) on my walk home the other night and was moved to… cry? scream? I did a little of both. Luckily I wasn’t alone and I have evidence of this magical moment.
