Dear December,
The treat yo self mentality is strong today. New earrings, more books, period, period, but no bloodstain. It's nice. My sister and I bought clothes for our brother that he'll never wear with a straight face--a goddamn striped sweater and boxer briefs with spaceships on them.
I spent four and a half hours in, out, and in the limbo of a library today. One book checked out, one book read in two sittings. I saw a cute girl in a cute outfit and I melted a little bit. I am so, so, convoluted in what I want and what I want to want; at this point who the hell knows what I am.
December, today was good. My sister has passed the worst of her sadness. I hung out with my best friend's family for an hour and a half and I'm going to call her in a few minutes, because screw it, tonight is a good time as any to have a sleepover. I haven't played since yesterday morning, and for people who made my ears burn and heart thud predictably, but still a good thudding pace. I wrote down phrases I thought were pretty and impossible, I drew, I read, I immersed myself in myself and at this point, I don't really give a fuck.
I like today.
YOU ARE READING
dear december
Non-FictionContinued from last month's Dear November letters. A little less angsty, a little more poetic. Originally done on Polyvore, by @writingtips' and @smileylina 's suggestion, who got the idea from Youtuber Carrie Fletcher's series 'Letters to Autumn'.
