Dear Stella,
This is a letter long overdue that I will not send for I am aware it will bring no benefit. Yet I write it, sitting on my bed, hiding from prying eyes of an empty living room that begs to breathe and escape. I write with a sore throat and a knife lodged between my hipbone and my leg that jams deeper every time I move for no apparent reason. I am not writing, however, to tell you about the aches that afflict me, although it might seem like it.
No, I am writing because I am tired now, because I am in the wire above the circus tent, almost able to touch the stars but certain I will fall left or right without ever making it to the other side. Truthfully I don't even remember where I started so, you see, turning back isn't an option. The issue is my muscles spasm in familiar ways before I can stop them, my body responds in auto pilot before I can command it otherwise and so I fall into a circular pattern that leads me nowhere near a resolution, yet at the heart of it is you.
Stella I am trying to tell you I've been using you as my sun, token in the darkness, protector, giver of life and meaning. But I've come to see that you were a mere distraction to all the other meteors and stars that threaten to pass through my atmosphere and break my shell. I should've been the sun all along, and it's not your fault that I wasn't, I was the one giving you all my energy to begin with.
Stella, this letter is to say goodbye, to apologise for using you as a crutch, to appreciate your abilities to shift my pain into numbness in order to cope with life's derails, to grant you immunity for all sins committed while under my command. I am not saying I will never return to you, I'm sure I will in harder days, but I request that you turn me away, that you bring hell on me and make me regret ever saying I needed you back.
Lastly, I warn you that this letter will be a formal reminder of how much I lose when I fall back to you, to hopefully get back up as soon as possible. Yes, I am unsteady, yes, the floor is so far away I cannot see anything but greyish shapes at the bottom, but I think it's time to get off the rope now.
Maybe next time I am close to reaching the stars I will be on much steadier ground, with faith on my chest as a badge of honour.
Goodbye, hopefully for the last time,
Kellin
YOU ARE READING
Dust
Teen FictionIn Kellin's world the truth is a flimsy thing that's hard to get hold of. Mostly when you have been lying to yourself for years, to the point where you erase all sorts of memories. "Nothing happened", " you are fine", "it's all in your head". And wh...
