Dear You – A Late Night Letter To Someone

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Dear You,

Hi, how are you? Hope you’re doing well.

How’s the weather? It’s been okay here. Rainy. Muggy. Coolish nights.

How’s your summer? Or should I say how was your summer. After the August long weekend, summer’s a downward slide. Which isn’t negative. I prefer autumn. The smells, the crunchy leaves, the colourful trees. Fall clothes. Flannel? Never thought I’d like flannel. Which season is your favourite? You strike me as a summer person.

How’s work? Mine’s the same. I’m thinking about making a career change. Everyone’s industry is tough, especially now. With mine? Imagine being in an industry where people hate you but they need you. Why did I chose this dysfunctional career? Besides work, life is okay. Besides, no one wants to read a list of complaints. I’ll save those for when I’m older. What about you? Anything new to report?

How are your parents? Mine are fine. I haven’t seen them in ages. COVID sort of threw a wrench into my summer plans. I’m guessing yours as well. Are you vaccinated. Which did you go with? I’ve had both shots. I sound like a baby kitten, don’t I? LOL. Regardless, I’m hoping my vaccination status makes me more desirable in the dating world. LOL.

Oh, speaking of dating. I learned those gatherings aren’t held anymore. Too bad. I wonder how people will meet each other. LOL.

I’ll stop the “LOLs.” People don’t laugh out loud when they write LOL, so why pretend. LOL is a cover for awkward situations. Such as this letter. I’m certain you figured this out. Or not. I’m not sure. It’s late. And I had four pieces of chocolate and coffee. Late nights, sugar, and common sense don’t mix.

Look, I said stuff, you said stuff. I know I said most of the stuff. An 80/20 bordering on 85/15 on the edge of 90/10 split. And in the end, we split.

I’ve been trying to purge. Material items. Not memories. And something won’t let me open the box. I’m trying. It’s time. Overtime. It’s overtime with a recalled goal. But it’s like the movie “Serendipity.” When I attempt to move on, there’s a, “Wait! Don’t! Stop! Memory!” You’ll need to watch the movie to understand.

I wish I asked more questions. The necklace. Your school. Siblings. Sports. Did you play rugby? I have no idea. You were interested in my life. After my mother fussed over you like a mother hen, we only had an hour or two alone. Speed dating before speeding dating. Early adopters. Or analogue influencers. Well, minus those times in town.

Look, I wanted to say something profound or noteworthy. Or something other than nothing. I’m writing, so I guess it’s something. Speaking of writing, I apologize for, well, you know. You should start charging for these Tessapologies. I’m not a pop-up and apologize on command person. Unless I know I’m wrong. I’m sorry if you were triggered. This would be the time to cash in your chips.

It’s been years, and this is foolish, isn’t it? We’re not kids in high school or fresh graduates. We’re adults. I thought I knew my path. You knew yours. But ours never met. Except once. Complicated and awkward.

Or did we choose complicated and awkward? It could’ve been short and sweet. Or nasty and rude. Or something else. This sounds similar to a political questionnaire. You don’t remember when our paths last met, do you. It was ages ago. Even though it feels like yesterday.

Speaking of yesterday, I hope you enjoyed your day.

I guess, what I want to say is …

Hey, let’s call this even. We broke each other’s hearts.

After all, you looked at me first.

Always,

Tessa