Time

Dear Stranger,

Thank you in advance for reading this. I have no idea who 'you' are, but in this strange world that we live in, it somehow feels so right to be writing to you.

I'm finding things pretty tough at the moment. My depression has had a sudden comeback for me, and I've always been one better at articulating myself in writing as opposed to explaining it. The place where I'm sitting writing this is so beautiful, and it's few moments like these when I'm able to stop and think for a minute. I'm at home, sitting in a room at the very top of the house, at a desk in front of this huge open window. It's very early morning for me right now, and as the city sleeps around me, there are birds EVERYWHERE in the garden. I'll let your own imagination take hold of all this, but its misty, and cold, and I can still see half of a moon lingering in the sky afar.

I've been really struggling to get out of bed recently, or pretty much function altogether. And it's time as a concept that scares me more than anything. Do you not think it somewhat strange that the world and our lifetimes tick by so constantly by this 'thing', that society have termed 'time'. In a way, us humans invented time, we based it on stars and suns and moons, and yet we still don't understand what they're even about. All a bit overwhelming really...

Anyway, I feel like you're reading my letter for a reason, one we could never explain, but a reason nonetheless. So thank you for being 'you'. If I could, I would give you a big hug/make us some tea/ whiskey/ tell stories next to a roaring fire/ go on a long walk/ swim in a river/ play you one of my songs/ listen to our favorite records/ dance to a vinyl until the sun rose/ etc, etc... but we can't. One day perhaps we will, but for now, I cannot express my gratitude on a greater scale for you listening to me, and hopefully putting a smile on your face.

Whether or not it is clear to you, the universe is unfolding as it should. Strive to be happy.

And here's to fearless enjoyment,

Love, me.