Letters to the dead

12:44 AM. I wonder if she is asleep. The night makes me want to write letters. Letters to politicians, letters to friends, letters to dead people. To tell them what is wrong with the world, and what, exactly, is wrong with me.

12:46 AM. Dear so-and-so. There are three things I have never told anyone. 1. My letters are poisoned with sarcasm and misplaced wit. 2. I think I am funny. 3. But in these unwritten letters, I am king.

12:53 AM Have you ever seen the deepest clear grey eyes, in which you can see your very soul? As if you could drop a coin in, and you would barely hear the sound – the well is that deep?

12:55 AM Neither have I.