An Old, Opened Envelope

I don’t know if you can still hear me, or even if you’re there. I just wanted to let you know that you still matter to me, and it’s freaking me out. Of all the people I don’t talk to anymore, it’s you I miss the most. That may or may not be saying much, because I really don’t miss anyone. That’s a lie; I’d give anything to go with you on this trip instead. I am Jack’s lie.

I don’t really remember a lot of what happened. I remember you were upset, and then I was. I remember I didn’t write, but eventually you did. I remember how pretty you were, and how your writing never looked like you. I remember the way you wrote my name, or just the M. I remember you wrote love at the close of each letter. I remember your pain and I’ll never know if it ended. I haven’t given anyone my loyalty or feelings in a long time in the way your one letter still rips from me. I miss you.

“And sometimes, sometimes I don’t feel alone. Maybe those moments are the only ones worth remembering. Just maybe.”

The Fringe Benefits of Failure, and the Importance of Imagination

You might think that I chose my second theme, the importance of imagination, because of the part it played in rebuilding my life, but that is not wholly so. Though I will defend the value of bedtime stories to my last gasp, I have learned to value imagination in a much broader sense. Imagination is not only the uniquely human capacity to envision that which is not, and therefore the fount of all invention and innovation. In its arguably most transformative and revelatory capacity, it is the power that enables us to empathise with humans whose experiences we have never shared.