i am writing to you now to distract myself from things i could be writing about if i had the clarity and the courage to write about them. i can trace some of my reluctance to some day-old kale salad that lingers within me still. but i think what i am not writing about goes far beyond that.

the things i feel, i am not ready to express because we still do not know each other very well, although you probably know me better than i know myself. that much i can say. the things i feel might explain why my heart is beating so fast.

but the things that consume me i am leery of putting into words, lest words solidify what is transitory. i can trace some of this to my sleepless dream-filled night. so many many dreams, one after the other, a steady stream restraining me from slumber. but if i could remember any of them, you would be the first person i would tell because i totally trust how you would interpret them. i can’t say that about everybody.

how little i understand of everybody. i wish i knew them better. but human relations are so perplexing to me. i don’t know how humans do it. every time i think i understand humans and how i can best relate to them, i stumble and fall.

i might be wise to starting learning more about this… and maybe put my piano lessons off for another few weeks. my piano teacher will understand.