dear tempe, arizona:
— sometimes, i still think i can feel your warmth on my skin.
do you ever think about
why did you lea
could i ever have gotten you to stay?
dear tempe, arizona:
if i concentrate hard, real hard, i can hear what your voice sounds like. i’m starting to forget but i’m trying my best not to. i think that’s why i’m hooked on american television. american candy. why i’ve got an american girlfriend.
dear tempe, arizona:
if there’s one thing i can’t forget, it’s that night on the highway. dad with his hand on the steering wheel, you in the passenger’s seat. i can see where your curls stick up against the headlights of other cars, and you’re looking over at him with a small smile on your face. your hand reaches out to touch his cheek. he smiles against it, holding your wrist with his free hand and kissing your fingertips. when we get home, when you tuck me into bed, i reach out for your cheek. you kiss my fingertips, too.
dear tempe, arizona:
did you fall out of love? is that what happened? is there anything that could’ve made you stay in it? if there is, please tell me. i promise i’m not blaming you of anything — i’m not, i swear i’m not. i think you did what you had to do. if you had to leave, i don’t blame you. that was what you wanted. it’s just, see, i’m still terrified of people leaving. i know it sounds like i’m thinking it’s your fault, and i’m so sorry. i don’t mean it like that, i could never, and i’m not blaming you for it — i just don’t wanna feel it again. if you could tell me, so i could prevent it, that would be awfully kind of you.
dear tempe, arizona:
i’m waiting for people to fall out of love with me. i’m waiting for everyone to be tired of it, of me, of blushing, of rambling, of worry, of whatever it is i’m made of. i’m waiting for “oliver, this isn’t enough.”
dear tempe, arizona:
i’m afraid of falling in love, too. i don’t know if i want it. i don’t know if i like it. because all of the good stuff, all of the butterflies and the goosebumps come with this overwhelming fear of what it’d be like if they were gone. it comes with a trust that they won’t be tired of you by the next morning. it comes with a complete honesty i haven’t even come to terms with myself. i don’t know if i’m ready to cross that line. i don’t know i’m ready to be this open. i don’t know if i’m ready to be vulnerable. isn’t much better to be safe?
dear tempe, arizona:
i think i hurt someone.
dear tempe, arizona:
i know i hurt someone.
dear tempe, arizona:
i miss you
dear tempe, arizona:
i’m scared
dear tempe, arizona:
i don’t want to be alone
dear tempe, arizona:
hi! hello, how are you? is everything okay? i haven’t seen you in a while, but i hope you’re doing well. is it still sweltering over there? it’s december, but i read somewhere that you get an average of 300 sunny days a year. 300 days! isn’t that crazy? that means you’ve only got around two months of cold, which is less than a regular winter. that’s what makes arizona so memorable, huh? i swear, i still can’t get it off my skin — i’ve got freckles all over to prove it! i haven’t had christmas in a t-shirt in ages, you should see all the sweaters i’ve accumulated over the years. we’ve started competitions, over here, for the ugliest sweater. i never win, but that’s because i don’t know where dad gets those ridiculous pun shirts. it’s been eighteen years, and he’s been wearing them since — well, you remember! probably longer than i’ve been alive, that’s for sure. i’m frightened by novelty pop culture christmas apparel now, which is a niche dad seems to slot into quite comfortably. we all love him anyway, but i’ve got a sneaking suspicion that only josie thinks it’s as funny as dad does. anyway, i tried to get the popcorn tinsel tradition going this year, but it doesn’t work out so well with a family of this size — been meaning to ask you about that, too! are you sure that’s a real thing, or is it just a you thing? no one i’ve asked has ever heard about it, but i’m sure things are different over in america. one thing i do love, though, is that once upon a christmas tape — y’know, the one with mickey and the harmonica and the repeating christmases with the ducks? absolute classic, that is. aunt cam is still trying to fix the vhs player, but i reckon it’s hopeless. thing’s gone haywire for five years now, bless its soul. i think i’ll try to go look for another one; scour the pawn shops, maybe. who knows?
if it’s cold where you are, i hope you’re staying warm (with the popcorn tinsel and your favorite movies queued up!).
happy holidays!
best regards, oliver.