We are not close and you are probably wondering why I am writing to you.
I saw you laughing on the train, you had two friends with you and you seemed to be having a splendid time. Actually you do this everyday. And when you laugh you are beautiful and free like a wild pony.
And I am jealous of you. I am jealous that you can take this life and have fun with it.
But while your life is meaningful, mine is somewhat dreary. See I am an isolated type of girl. You’ve seen me pass the halls, never once looked at me. Like the cotton puff that trails off the trees comes down and you know they are floating in front of your face, but you don’t bother to look at because you are too busy playing with your Golden Retriever as she fetches a tennis ball. It hangs in her jaw and she gallops at you. You catch her in your arms. You don’t see the cotton in the air.
It’s okay. I don’t blame you or anyone else for this. There is some inoperatable law that makes our lives just so. I have come to accept this magical universal agreement, that I would not be well taken to and you would.
We share this train everyday though. And I see you. So we share this experience together. Actually if you think of it, there are many times our paths cross but not quite meet. It’s interesting to me how that works that people so different often come so close to each other’s worlds but never quite meet.
But I guess I am writing this because I don’t like fate, and the powers that be. I thought maybe for once I could mix things up, and next time I pass you down the hall, you will know it.
((((for our assignment I flipped to page 29 in the book Thus Spoke Zarathustra by Frederick Nietzsche, and found the world Afterworldly. My writing didn’t quite go with the word. I hope it’s close enough))))