a letter to you

I don’t know any cryptic words, and I’ve already said everything I have to say. But if I had to say something, it’d be to flip the record over. Because the sounds of Quincy’s cries are mixing with a cricket’s chirp, and it’s not distracting me enough from what we set out to do here tonight. Add to the cacophony of background noises: Walter scratching the walls of the litter box. I’m not sure if it’s obsessive or compulsive, or if i’m placing human behaviors on my cats. I look at you looking off to something. I often look at you looking off to something. I think I look at you too much. Eventually, sometimes, you look back. Maybe I look away too soon the other times. It’s probably not a thing to give a second thought to, but here I am at my third or fourth. When Quincy looks outside, I feel like he’s dreaming of a world bigger than the home we gave him. Walter is content here. I see our separate personalities in them both at different times. It doesn’t make sense to do that, I know, but which do you think you are here? Maybe that is what people do with their children: they search for resemblances they want to see, and nullify the flaws they’ve always despised in themselves. It is, after all, a lot easier to accept problems in people other than yourself (in myself, at least). I think I have repressed a lot, and I am almost positive I am actively repressing more. I wonder how many secrets I am not letting myself in on. I wonder if any of my thoughts are real before I say them out loud to you. I wonder if another person could feel as real to me as you do. Quincy tries to catch his breath as he eats and drinks – as if he may not ever get another meal – another chance.  Walter doesn’t notice the world playing in his life’s background. Which do you think you are? I hear people fighting outside almost nightly. I hope neither of us are ever the person who is angry and outside and yelling into the telephone to the other. It’s depressing to think about how quickly everything could turn. A levee gives way to pressure. A straw breaks a camel’s back. Will I know to say “when” before I become too much? Quincy cries when he doesn’t want anything in particular other than, it seems, to have a cry. Walter makes weird noises when he wants to stand out. I asked you if you were done. You’re not done. And I could do this forever. 

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