i need to see something human and true and real and sincere and free of manipulation and free of sarcasm and free of ulterior motives and free of judgement.
i feel like we are coming into it though. and i feel like i need to throw myself into pushing it into existence. but i feel like i am pushing pieces of broken glass into my whatever is left of me.
When I was 16, on a blog I probably never want you to see, I wrote:
The Post office is intriguing.
All those letters zooming past each other. Bearing all those messages, all those thoughts, all those lives. The perfect example of us today. We’re all passing each other by. Not caring what the person next to us is thinking or holding inside, just rushing to our oh-so-important destinations.
And those letters. The words inside of them. Are they someone’s pain? Someone’s ecstasy? Someone’s anger? The packages must never be opened. Why? Because the contents are unsettled. We never want to re-open issues we’ve fought about but never came to a conclusion on. Why? Because we’re afraid we’ll open more issues: secrets. So we keep it all inside. And cry within.
And that buzz. People walking fast because a message – a thought – is just another stop on the route to happiness. Their final destination.
What about the people who work at the Post office? The “counselors”. The people who are so brave to get so close to all those secrets. So nearly burned but never harmed. Forget astronauts. Post Office Workers are the real heroes.
What would we do if messages couldn’t be delivered for us? Would we then speak? Would we then say what we feel? Is the Post Office the only hope of proper communication in the future? Will true feelings only be expressed by mail? Is it man’s only hope?! But like I said, the Post Office is my home.
and this idea that's been simmering in my mind for over 3 years may possibly take flight in Structure & Style.
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