I am not used to the tranquility after the storm and nor am I used to emotional affection from her. Again and again we have made it through the storm only
to be battered from all sides by the waves that the storm has drivven to the surface. I am far too nervous and far too unexplainably uncomfortable with
where I am, in my life, at this moment. At this hour. Perhaps we need not continue the story. Perhaps it is time for a new book entirely. Take up the pen.
I will cover your hand with mine and together we can write it and make it of our own shared experiences and angers and fears but also of our joys and moments
of pure happyness. Yes, I believe that experiences that shake one's true belief in family values and loyalties change a person and I know you have gone
through many changes. But I also believe that they foster a need to trust in something.
And just the fact that you called me at all is a show of something that a month ago, you would not have admitted and I would not have trusted. I have broken
myself down and put myself back together and as a result, there are things that can not and should not be said, but there are so many more that need to
be said and have been stagnating in the pools of our apathy and anger and obsession for far too long. And in that, an understanding of everything that
shattered us to a point where we couldn't be in the same room together will be gained. A verbal expression of why you refused to trust me. Of why I refused
to move on. Of jealousy that manifested itself in both of our minds and of all the things that we couldn't even quantify mentally, let alone vocalize.