a messy canvas

Letter to a Stranger [Phan, Part I]

"Would you be okay with partaking in this, I can tell your therapist if you'd rather fulfill another exercise."

"Only the person Dr. Nilsen gives my letter to would read it, right?" I responded, in need for reassurance that this wasn't a trick of some sort.

"Dr. Nilsen may skim through it just to make sure there's no triggering content for who she intends to receive it, other than that no one else's eyes will see what you write."

"Okay..that's fair."

"So what do think you want to do?"

"I'll write the letter, if Dr. Nilsen thinks this is what I need to do, it might actually do me some good."

"You don't have to feel obligated to go on with it just because of Dr. Nilsen remember, it's your choice and no one will be upset if you're not okay with it." my father reminded me.

"I know that Dad; I want to do it, really."

Over the passing of roughly seventy two hours and with crumpled up drafts that just didn't flow in the way I wanted them to in my bedroom trash can as a sight of how seriously I took this push from Dr. Nilsen, I finally formulated the note that fit how I wanted myself to come across to the receiver. Since I'm feeling particularly proud of this achievement, I want to share my words with you; I hope that's okay. Alright, here they are.

This is something that's been weighing me down for such a long period of time, I couldn't tell you the last moment where it wasn't amidst the corners of my mind.

It doesn't take much for me to become frightened. The slightest shift in the atmosphere I'm currently experiencing and I'll jump as if a firework was ignited mere inches away from me.

When I don't feel one hundred percent okay, you'll know it. I'll dwell on the matter so much that my method of handling what could simply be because I ate something I usually don't will turn into uncontrollable shaking and where I think it's something that could only be solved by a midnight hospital visit.

If you want to contact me and I don't already have knowledge of your information please don't call me; I'm afraid you won't get a response, no matter how many attempts you make. This is because of my high school days, where I had to take an online course in order to graduate and I became so petrified of my phone's ringing that it lead to me rehearsing my words twenty times over with the couple of days notice I gave my teacher to overthink the simple task. This also affected my computer usage; even with so much time since then and a new computer in my possession I can't do as much as look at the screen without feeling that what I wish to fulfill on the internet isn't productive enough.

I say sorry a lot. Based on observations my mind has sunken in and my own experiences, the world is by no means a happy go lucky place; bad things happen and it doesn't care about how good of a person you are. With that said, my doings of apologizing even when the occasion doesn't call for my say of the phrase stems from this: since the universe can't express sorrow in planting these seeds of hardship, I've taken that duty upon myself. Now that I'm expressing this out loud it makes my reasoning seem a bit weird; I wish I could properly tell you what I've gone through in my existence to where maybe it'd make more sense.

Though really, that's not a burden I'd want you to be forced with. I'm sorry I even thought of such a thing.

Those deep conversations they tell you about in the movies you love and the stories you always find yourself returning to? With me, it'll take a long while to reach that stage in our relationship. Why? I trusted too easily before this shift in my view on the world happened. Friends I thought I would have by my side during graduation slipped through my fingers like sand when junior high came around, so I closed myself off to opening up in the extent I wanted to as I tried to make new friends because no one really sticks by you when you're secretly broken. Turns out by the time what should've been my freshman year of college, the only company I'd truly have were my family.

There's volumes worth of details I should share with you before you choose to place this heavy weight upon your chest, but if I did spill everything, I don't think you'd bother even saying hello.

Instead I'll let you gradually make that decision for yourself; that being if you wish to stay or leave, because when you're around a massacre like myself you deserve the goodbye option no matter how deep the bond becomes.

You're probably thinking you'd never want my presence to skid across your vision now, which if I was in your position I would certainly be feeling. Before you go, can I tell you some good I've gained from my planting in the universe?

If by the slim chance you stayed, here they are.

I'm a great listener. The problem you're facing or simply a topic you enjoy doesn't matter, I nine times out of ten will be able to place myself into what you're telling me and will try to offer the best input I can.

My music taste (at least I'd like to think) is good. Whenever I listen to a song I pour all of my attention into it, whether it be in the lyrics to form my own storyline or the instruments involved to calm myself down from my vortex of never ending what ifs.

Sure it's not much, but if you're willing to give me a chance maybe you could help me see more of the better pieces of my making?

I hope you'll at least consider. (But by no means am I forcing this upon you, it's your choice to make and I don't want you to feel as if this is a must because it's not.)

Sincerely, a blue eyed boy with unkept raven hair and constant nerves bubbling throughout his veins, known by the name of Phil.

So what did you think? Does it sound okay, do I make sense in the points I presented? While constructive criticism isn't something I'm against, I'm afraid the errors you find sticking out to you can't be made; I gave Dr. Nilsen my letter just a few hours ago.

I have to wait until they've received what I've wrote to (hopefully) gain a letter in return, seeing as I was the starter in this chain reaction. No matter what happens, I just want them to be in a good place, even if they haven't reached it just yet. If they decide to write a response after all, I wonder what they'll share with me?