relativity

i feel too much. every single thing. i can't turn it off. i'm overwhelmed by how much i feel sometimes. happiness, sadness, loneliness, anger, disappointment. it is almost painful to be so hypersensitive to the world and the people in it. it's a blessing and a beast. god, i beg when my emotions bring me to my knees. i am constantly crumbling. it is a difficult way to live.

what is the difference between a blessing and a curse i wonder. is it all relative?

letters

i haven't written any letters in a while. i'm a big fan of letters in case you haven't noticed. especially letters to people i don't have any (legal) way of reaching.

dear adam levine,

i think i'm in love. i graduate at the end of next year, and then i am all yours. i'd leave school right now, but just in case things don't work out, i need something to fall back on. it's the feminist in me, what can i tell you?

i know you have a girlfriend... a victoria's secret model? seriously? so unoriginal, adam, i'm a little disgusted. but i see the allure. just look at those long, spindly legs... on second thought, don't. so if you can wait just a little longer? i'll never leave your bed. (what? it's a song, okay, don't look at me like that).

yours,

jamila

dear james franco,

one of my biggest aspirations in life is to marry a good looking writer. you're certainly good looking, and your certainly a writer, but are you a good writer? and with those smoldering eyes of yours, does it even matter? hm. i recently read your book of short stories palo alto, and i immediately took a shower afterwards. just kidding. no, actually i'm not really kidding. but thank you for making me realize that i must amend my standards: for a guy to be marriage worthy he must not only be good looking but be a good writer, too. so thank you for making me realize that i deserve better.

forever yours,

jamila

now letters to people i actually know:

dear dawsa,

i love you and i miss you so much. it's incredibly lonely without you here. i miss you at the most random times. sometimes at night before i fall asleep i'll look at the clock and calculate what time it is for you, and i'll get sad. i wish you weren't so far away. my sister girl.

dear mama,

everyday is mother's day. i hope you feel that way. you're beautiful, inside and out, and i'm so blessed and proud to be your daughter. it's so nice having you home these past few weeks. i love seeing your face when i come home from school. it's my favorite face in the world, did you know that?

dear grandma,

i think, and this might seem a little strange, that you know me better than anyone else, and in a lot of ways i know you better than anyone else. better than your dead husband, or your own children. i can't wait to come see you. i dream of you sometimes. it makes waking up with you so far away that much harder. every poem i've ever written is about you in some way.

monotony

i am so tired of the same old routines. it's a half hour past midnight and i want to shout: does it ever get better? i am waiting. don't ask me for what... i couldn't tell you, but i feel as if i've spent my entire life waiting.

and if you think about it, we are all waiting for something. for a boyfriend or a husband to call. for the weekend. for a cab or a train or a plane. for a baby, for the flowers we planted last month to fight their way into life.

and the fact that i am not alone in this should make me feel better, but it depresses the hell out of me. it is spring, and this sense of monotony makes me ache. the days bleed so thoroughly into the other that they blur. it gets hard to distinguish one from the other.