Letter

This was done as three things; a venture into the art of first person, a experiment created to provoke thought, and a style of writing tuned to mean nothing and everything at the same time. I can't tell you the significance of it, but I wonder if anything I say pertains to your life or situation...?

Dear ---

If you understand something, you know nothing. We aren't made to understand but to learn. There's so much you cannot know about the world; can you really assume that a thing is one way merely because you have seen something similar before? Imagine the danger of assuming authority on a whim and messing with a situation as you please. What if you're wrong? Ever if you are right, what if you fix it the wrong way? What if, in fixing it, you lose the trust and integrity of a friendship involved?

There have been times when I've suspected jealousy. I've told the story, and others have picked jealousy as well. But why would jealousy make people act so? Can't one just approach me and explain how he feels? My goodness! Can you not merely tell me the truth! Talk to me! I listen! God put you in my life as a support and part of my guidance. Don't you owe it to me to tell me what you see me do wrong? Do you think I want to do wrong?

But if it were jealousy, I imagine there would be more silent enmity. The tactile sense, which sends shudders down my spine. If it were jealousy, you would appraoch me, and you would do wrong. I don't believe this is the case.

Indeed, the fact that I have seen neither hide nor hair of you shows me that even you understand. Somewhere deep inside, the reminder of your limits grows stronger the closer you come to me. Something stops you when you speak to me, and even though you don't know what it is, it closes up your throat until you change the subject. That's the Holy Spirit, tell you that you don't have the right.

Buy why? Why do you not listen to it sooner? Why must you ignore it just long enough to harrass my friend? Don't you know me at all? If you stopped for one moment and walked around in my skin you'd understand; the worst torture is burdening those I love.

I must admit, I have begun considering again my worth to other people. I begin to realize the pressure my mere existence puts on others. You're not helping. Fact: You don't know what you're messing with. Fact: You're hurting me. Fact: I'm so very sorry. I hate being angry and I hate speaking the unwavering, unforgiving thoughts in my mind. Fact: You're still young, and yet you act like you have the whole world in hand. I don't pretend to know any better, but this is my life. You're not the one who'll be hurt if I'm wrong. Respect me.

Trust God.

I forgive you.
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