miércoles, enero 14, 2009

Dear Karen


Dear Karen, 

If you are reading this, it means I actually work out the courage to mail it, so good for me. You don’t know me very well but if you get me started, I have the tendency to go on and on about how hard the writing is for me.

But this, this is the hardest thing I ever have to write. 

There is not easy way to say this, so I will just say it: I met someone. It was an accident, I wasn’t looking for it, it wasn’t on the make ¿?

It was a perfect storm

She said one thing, I said another, next thing I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life in the middle of that conversation.

How is this feeling in my gut, she might be the one.    

She is completely nuts, in the way that makes me smile, hardly neurotic. The great deal of madness required.

She is you, Karen.

That’s the good news. The bad is that I don’t know how to be with you right now. And scared the shit out of me. Because if I am not with you right now I have this feeling we will get lost out there. It is a big bad world full of twisted terms; the people are way winking are missing the moment, the moment that could have changed everything.

I don’t know what is going on with us, and I can’t tell you why you should waste the leap of faith of the likes of me. But damn you smell good, like home. And you make excellent coffee. That has to count for something, right? Call me.

Unfaithfully yours,

Hank Moody


subt:by me ;)