the dark has no remarks for me.

Dear you,

In the past week, I have been told three times that I am the person everyone tells everything to. I have been told twice that it is impossible to tell when I'm upset because I never let anything out. I have been told more times than I can count that I should care more about my own happiness than other people's happiness.

I once was told, "I worry that you ruin your own happiness sometimes" and I think about that a lot.

Do I ruin my own happiness? Do I take every opportunity I have to be happy and throw it away? Do I worry too much about other people to take care of myself? Do I listen too much and speak up too little?

I went to that weird gathering at Lone Peak when I was still in high school, that thing where it's basically some weird glorified pity party/therapy session where everyone pretends to be better friends than they actually are and gets way too touchy-feel-y? I can't remember the name of it now, but maybe I'll remember later. Anyway, everyone was crying and everyone was telling all these horrible things that had happened to them or these struggles they were going through and I started crying and I'm sure everyone thought it was because I must have some horrible things I had happen to me, but I wasn't crying because of myself, I was crying for everyone else in my group and I just couldn't stop crying because honestly, they had gone through some really sad things, and I don't even remember what bull I told them about myself because honestly, I walked away from that thing having told nothing about myself and I felt really guilty afterwards for the longest time because this one girl in my group would always come up to me in the halls and hug me or something and confession, though I knew a lot about her, she didn't know squat about me and I just always felt bad because she thought we were real friends but how can you be friends with someone while not knowing them?

And that stupid iceberg analogy they told everyone really bothered me because people are not icebergs. People are not a defined shape with edges and a small portion you can see and a huge bottom beneath the water, people are oceans. People have wounds and thoughts as deep and mysterious as the Pacific, people have views from space and views from the shoreline and people have horizons and tides and storms and waves and they are beautiful and terrifying and sparkling and full of potential and people are more than you or I could ever imagine. You could spend a lifetime with someone and though you would earn a PhD in your studies of them, there would still be more to discover because like oceans, people are always changing.

I started this letter off talking about myself and it changed into talking about how much I love people, because it's true, I genuinely just love people. I just want them to be happy and to get to know their oceans. I want them to learn and grow and discover new things and I want to know if they're more like the Atlantic or the Pacific and if maybe they're the Arctic like I sometimes think I am, because I feel like I am cold and mostly frozen and unable to give life to many things besides migratory whales or something, but I'm really good at entertaining childhood fantasies of flying deer and elves I guess because I'm so far away.

And now I'm getting deep into these metaphors, because let's face it, I'm in love with metaphors, and this letter has gotten way off track because again, let's face it, I don't really have a track and this is why I'm really bad at finishing novels because I get too many ideas and no where to place them in the line that is a plot. But I mean, plots aren't really exactly lines, more like maps, but I don't even think I can fit my thoughts into a map because they are ridiculously vast and sometimes I wonder if my brain is less like an ocean and more two colliding galaxies spiraling into each other.

I feel like my insides are two colliding galaxies slowly forming into a super massive black hole.

I just wish I could tell someone about all this, but like I've been told, it's impossible to tell when I'm upset because sometimes even I don't know it until my entire soul is colored pitch black.

And I wish I could tell someone all of this, but I'm not sure they would get it, because even I don't get it.

Sincerely,
xx
Blue