Tangled Wings

Dearest Michelle,

Thank you. Thank you for the wonderful words you wrote to me tonight. Thank you for responding to me at all. I had no idea what you would think of my email, if you would think of it, if it would mean anything to you. I suppose what I feared most was not my own truth, was not admitting how greatly I missed you, but facing the realistic possibility that you didn't feel the same way about me. I suppose I feared I would be too late. I suppose I feared I had grown unworthy of your friendship.

Discovering you out in this blog world changed the way I write. Reading your words changed the way I think about things, the way I pay attention to the life around me, the way I articulate the inner workings of my soul. Being able to open this space filled with your beautiful poetry and photography, your beautiful self expression, has meant everything to me. It has given me strength when I've felt weak, hope when I've felt lost, inspiration when I've felt as though I had nothing left to give. Your endless talent and vast depth inspires me to be a better thinker. Your courage and honesty inspires me to live a better life. Your blog inspires me to be a better writer, a better woman, and a better person. Discovering you out in the blog world changed the way I live. Knowing you has changed my life.

I like that you noted how I was asking for what I need. It's been the mantra of my life lately, the lesson I am slowly trying to learn, the goal I am working so very hard to reach. People seem to think that honesty is never a problem for me, but that is only because I stick to topics that are easy for me to be honest about. Asking for help, admitting I miss people, reaching out for a hand to hold, are the kinds of truths I still struggle facing each day. I do not know how to say I need you. I do not know how to tell you I am hurt. I do not know how to express I miss you beyond those words, and those words are meaningless when it comes to the way it feels to miss you.

Which is not just you, but a universal you, a past you that existed during a past version of my life. Slowly I am learning that letting go is not always the means of moving forward, that sometimes the future is about reconnecting with the past. Because the truth is, you think of me in Barnes and Noble, and I think of you every time I am inspired by a wonderful poem, or a line from a book, or a single word that leaps out at me from some idle page somewhere. I think of you when I think of old friends, of people I miss, of people I regret letting go. I cannot move forward when I am stuck in the present, missing you.

You are so right that guilt just adds a lot of unnecessary and unneeded heaviness to our lives. I am burdened with guilt, consumed with it, and that enveloping of my soul in such a useless emotion only leaves me feeling guilty about feeling guilty, about allowing myself to be endlessly plagued by something I know to be such a waste of time. Writing to you, being honest with you, was a way of lifting that heaviness. It was a way of apologizing, yes, but also a way of allowing a truth to surface, of setting myself free of the daily reminders that I lost you. It was a way to say all of the things I think about each time I sit down here to write. It was my way of saying I miss you, beyond those three little words.

And to receive your email tonight, to once again read your words beyond your blog, to know that, even for an instant, you thought of me and missed me too, means everything. It means everything to reconnect with you. It means hope. It means forgiveness. It means my life is undoubtedly about to change once more, for the better, because of you.

Because I have been blessed enough to find you out here in this blog world. Because I have been blessed enough to have phenomenal you here in my life. Because I am in awe of you in every way.

Because I am so grateful that you are exactly who you are.
All my love,
Always,
Frankie