Late night call.

02/09/2026 & 02/10/2026

Dear always,

I wonder who your late night call is. The drunk dial. The dream you keep dreaming. How about that vision board? Whos photo hangs in the corner? Or is there not one yet and just a thought of who could be? Who’s your go to midnight milkshake and beach trip call?

Be the Bob to my Linda.

–

Can I ask you something? I know you technically can’t answer… I mean you could learn to astrol project and leave a note on my mirrior or some shit with the answer? Honestly that’d be kind of creepy and I might get really scared but I’m fuckin desprate at this point. Why can’t I get it right? What am I doing wrong?

I thought that I was making progress. I thought I wasn’t spiraling. But I’m such a goddamn moron. I hate feelings. I don’t want to be this person. But I love who I am? Do you have connections to the queen of hearts? Can she take my heart and hold it for a while until you and I meet? Just to be safe? I hate feeling like this.

I’m not trying to read the last page. I swear, but it’s screaming in my face. Is this how it’s going to be for eternity? Just falling and running? Or I fall and they aren’t in it? I fall intentionally with someone who’s going to hurt me? Am I a masochist? I mean I know I’m fucked in the head but my god I didn’t think it was this bad? I just want to know how to take my own advice.

Regrets aren’t what I want. But I only felt this kind of pain a few times in my life and it was over not dreaming of you, and losing her. I still feel that pain every time I see her photos and any time I catch a breeze that carries the memories. And nothings even set in stone. Take me back to being numb… please?

My friend is right though, I’m addicted to it, he’s right about the trauma too. There’s shit that’s not getting worked through. That i’m not uttering a word of. At least not in the open. Not even the person that knows everything knows it. Maybe in a few years i’ll get fucked up and call to tell him. Or it’ll slip out when I crack a joke about why it took so long to publish my book. It stores in your body haha.

Maybe that’s why I’m sick. Chronically Traumatized. I’m kidding that’s not how it works, but it definitely doesn’t help with autoimmune problems.

I’m a terrible person you know? A hypocrite. And a chronic self hater. I’ll look you dead in the eyes and tell you not to hurt yourself while I’m secretly doing everything I can to self destruct without anyone noticing. The worst part? No one ever notices. Not until I point it out. I can read someone like a book and I’m the most confusing person on the planet apparently. So you’re going to have your hands full. Everyone wants me but they don’t WANT ME. The real me. The one whose here crying for days on end because it’s too much. The one who says she’d rather end it all than keep dealing with the shit that’s never going to get better, you know that Chronic part of Chronic Illness.

No one really knows how to deal with me. They never have. I’ve always been this way. Anytime I get close to someone they leave. Even my own damn brother barely spends time with me haha, it’s so fucking awkward when we do hang out. I just feel miss placed you know? I wish I wasn’t this weird girl who was obsessed with mental connection. And liked antique stores, only had a few good friends. I wish everything turned out the way I planned when I was six. SIKE.

What I do wish is that I was still close with those cousins that were raised like siblings, the one who was basically my twin. I wake up every day in agonizing pain feeling like I’m missing a peice of myself. We were so close. I wish I had the courage to be real with myself. I wish that I would have said things that needed to be said. I wish you were here, because I just want to know if my heart will surrvive that long. And what about yours? What about your heart?

I know this letter was a lot. I’m sorry. If you want you can blame the hangover or the hormones even though I think that’s sexist and dumb the hormone part… I just want to dream of you again. And better yet I want you in my life, but I want to know it’s you. I want proof… I miss you Always. I miss our talks. So meet me at midnight would you? For old times sake?

I hope you’re doing okay.

xoxo Forever.