You died in a dust storm; you fell through time and space you woke up by yourself. You find your body disheveled and broken, your bones don’t mean anything anymore; they don’t even hold you up. Resentment is your only friend, what do you have left of yourself now? Who are you now? You have to walk on desert sand, and your feet are raw and sore, rubbed red like the blood of camel backed Bedouins. And you walk down that path of desert until you see the sun has caught up with you and you don’t remember what love is anymore. Do you?
You mean nothing to me. I don’t really think you can be saved. I feel pretty bad for you, the way you’re so twisted your hair goes everywhere, and you can’t figure anything out. Warped through the mouths of those before you, you only go off of what you’ve been told to feel. I watched you walk out to a tree in the middle of the desert, life where none exists. And as I watched you, I wondered how long it would be before I, myself, hung my corpse from that tree.
I’ve memorized books and books about instinct, about how insects are the first to know a storm is approaching. How the lioness would literally tear everything and everyone in her path apart to protect her young. The matriarchies that make up the intricacies of nature are embedded in my blood. But you, and everything you are is not a science, it’s a disaster. The sounds you make are no orchestra; they are cacophony and destruction. If I wake up next to someone like you, I’d slit my own wrists to watch the nature bleed from my limbs, to know that everything I know is wrong.
This is my letter to myself, my condolences on the part of everything I could not do. Everything you and I could not fathom on opposite sides of a spectrum. And when I look into the mirror and recite the verses of my failures, I wish to hear them said back to me, to let me know that this is what I deserve. It’s such an interesting law, what one deserves. And if everyone deserved love, this would be a different place. So I wish you well, I hope there are valleys and mountains of echoes beyond this empty place where you lay.