hello awake. i’ve missed you. you’ll miss me.
it’s as if we move backwards; i write to you in the future yet you seem younger. like a phoenix, i am at the end of it and you will read this at the our new beginning, birthed emerging and bright as the length of your flame, likely shorter than mine.
forgotten already, diding and aming and willing or shalling, the utility of this letter. i think i began in attempting to share myself with someone. looking around and finding nothing but a reflection, i am addressing the only one to whom i can offer my image.
i’m slipping already, i can feel it. for some reason i feel you feeling it too, willing it as i am it. perhaps it is because i am aming as i once did. block (no) blocks (and) block (open) universei. each character retains significance as i am, despite knowing their insignificance as i will. my constant rebirth necessitates ubiquitous reciprocal decay, engender growing ignorance like a lengthening shadow as absence enlarges.
strange, feeling absence. the nothing is something. and it yearns not to be nothing, to be the something it was before, like a muscle contorted out of comfort pulling to return to a state of rest that it no longer knows. i have forgotten the face of rest like a loved one who departed ages ago.
duplicity has never felt so apparent. i doubt that, given the wasing and aming and willing; duplicity will always feel this apparent at this stage. its quiet, writing awake. my nature essentialised by confusion and distortion, disappointing; despite the obvious lost meandering with a frayed string on me tethered and a pinch of dread, she’s deigned deservingless of witness.
no matter – albiet the matters all – we witness eachother; i witness you witnessing her. willing witness aming witness willing. and with that i am content now as i always am. i should not be.
witnessless witnessed me. i love you awake, even as you depart once more. witnessless witnessed me.?”