the id is: 5516
I write an apology in the blue ink
I have stolen from a kraken in the depths
of the Atlantic Ocean
I'm sorry that my mental disorders convenienced themselves perfectly to hurt you.
I was an epileptic in the bed, a schizophrenic in the kitchen, and an Alzheimer's patient on our Anniversary days.
I only have ever suffered from 'being in love with you'. That, and sappiness. Oh god, sappiness.
Do you remember that one time I quoted from Greek mythology while still in bed with you? It was Oedipus Rex, and they were the lines he screamed as he pushed the pins into his eyes, splitting the optical nerve. It... didn't do much in the way of turning you on. In fact, you could argue that it did quite the opposite.
I wanted to apologize about how bad I am in bed. This is something you already know. But you have to know, too... it hurt me to see you speak your displeasure with only your eyes, and never your mouth. I was never brave enough to confront you about this. But every night I rubbed against raw disappointment from the first kiss to the last thrust. I wanted to tell you this.
You and I owned a cat, which I named Baldr, because I was eccentric and you were still able to admire me, back in those days. Baldr would bring us freshly dead mice at least twice a month from our English garden, mice that he would always meowingly claim to have killed. You were okay with these conquests of his, and you'd claim them to be a part of the circle of life. But I was never taught as a child what death was, and I hated to be reminded that it happened. I would soak through your business shirts at 8am in the morning before you went to work, and I would spend the rest of the day worrying about whether or not your students were making fun of you for wetting yourself in the chest. I am undesirable and...
An epileptic in the bed.
I won't ever finish this letter to you, my Lover, but I will send it off anyway.
In hopes that in spite of all that I have suffered, I'll be able to look back at you without this clenching pain in my chest.
Please write back."
Fan Wu is a first-year student of Ethics and English at the University of Toronto. He believes that the two are rarely compatible, but when they are, truly great literature is produced. Though he still inhabits his influences, he is finding slivers of an original voice in the newness of the everyday. He wants to meet you like nothing else.