Cracking Zeenath

February 16th, 2015: Hopes and Dreams

It's been a month, almost. The winter was only getting colder and the absent sun wasn't helping any.

I wrapped my arms around myself as I walked. This day last year, Evelyn died...on a hospital bed while I cried against the wall outside. I looked around, watching the headstones pass by.

Thomas Stuart.

Ethan Falls.

Kacie Byerly.

I passed headstones upon headstones, each with their own bouquets of flowers, some dried up and dying, others fresh and new. I pulled my coat tighter, the cold nipping at my nose and the tips of my fingers.

The trees were already dead this time of the year, the ground frozen underneath me. This time last year, it was snowing. I looked up and swallowed. The clouds were grey. I needed to do this.

A week ago, I was sitting at dinner with Clara, who had moved back in after we'd both gotten our casts removed--and Oh Lord, did it feel good to not need help anymore--when I remembered the time I sat curled up against the wall. There are promises I made to Evelyn that I'd forgotten about. Things I still need to do.

Yesterday, I bought a strawberry ice cream cone for a little girl who was crying ahead of me in line. She stopped, wiping her tears before gingerly picking up the cone. She licked it and smiled at me.

She had your eyes, Evelyn.

Damian had looked at me strangely, saying something about that being the reason he something-something.

I'd smacked his shoulder, telling him not to make light promises.

I went home that day and opened up my email. Last time, I'd read them and was reduced to a crying mess. Not this time.

There was one message I'd never touched.

The one I'd written myself.

It was time to open it.

Zeenath.

It's me. Or rather, you.

I'm writing this letter to you while I sit here in the library with Evelyn. She's looking at me funny.

This.

This is a letter to my future, and I hope it rings true even six months...a year...two years later, whenever you get it.

This is a checkpoint in life. First letter, sent. Send another one, would ya? Spread the memories between your past, present, and future selves.

I'm still pining over Nick. It's honestly getting tiring by now. I'm getting sick of feeling hollow. I don't want to do it anymore. I'm tired on the inside. I'm tired in my bones. Something's breaking apart, and I'm trying so hard to hold on. I'm trying not to let go.

They say everything happens for a reason. There's a reason the sky is blue, a reason the sun sets when it does, and a reason I'm still here.

I want to fly, kick myself free from these bonds and float. Just float. Not going anywhere.

I want to learn to sing freely, and not give up when it gets hard to breathe.

I want to be strong, and plant my feet in the ground so deeply, hurricanes can never tear me down.

I want to live in such a way, that I can build up others so they don't drown.

I want to be a writer, using words to touch others. I want to be successful.