Dear Marjorie,
I began talking to friends again. You would know them under the term 'dearings', since you always mentioned them as 'dear old this' and 'dear old that'. I know you'll ask about the sudden change of mind, so I'll just say it: I feel it again. Now don't go dancing around the world just because I'm feeling like peopling again. It's not like that. I feel this deep hole that is ready for me again, this deep darkness with hands that beg for a hug. And you know how I love hiding from life...
So all in all, I am doing it. Tell me this Marjorie... Do your friends also feel... Unleveled? Shallow? Away? Do you hear them talk and forget you're part of the conversation? Do answers evade your mind because whatever you could say would never touch them? Do them having fun distances you? Do you try and try and being part of it never comes easy? Do you fake a laugh and mimic a feeling, so that it all goes on? Did I ever feel like that to you?
It has dawned upon me that I don't know how to name you. Are you a friend? Are you a dearing?
Are you there at all?
YOU ARE READING
The Marjorie Diaries
Non-FictionParts of life told to a stranger friend. Julie writes a letter to Marjorie every other day. She waits for letters with a warm answer, but doesn't get to enjoy them so much. When the letters do come, there is always good advice and friendly stats, so...
