sixth bug correspondence
you once told me to not let the things i can’t control get to me, and while i am learning from your patience and virtues of acceptance, i still feel a searing pain in the depth of my chest, chiseling into the infrastructure of my soul when i am faced with a harsh reality that evades my trembling fingertips.
do you think it’ll always spear me this violently? i cry in tiled walls and tamp my spiraling nerves into the stone of the earth. if the cocoon was empty, would you hate me for crawling back into it? the sun is too bright and my moon is occupied.
i don’t wish to burden you with these thoughts — my friend, you encourage me that the world will continue spinning. i am not alone nor will i ever be. you are here and that is enough.
Anabelle is a yapper, a gamer, and a college radio DJ. She loves Adrianne Lenker, pom-cran juice, and outdoor swimming pools. She aspires to write stories, poems and other multi-media narratives that detail the mundane, expose privilege, and encourage empathy.
