Dear Doubt,
I woke up this morning thinking about you. It’s been a while since we last spoke, and I hope you’re doing well. The last time I saw you was at the beginning of autumn. You still had that golden touch of sunburn, that fresh feeling of joy and a few freckles. And you pulled me in with your warm energy, filled with months of laughter and ocean swims and long nights under the stars. I remember thinking how unusual it was to see you that light-spirited, as if you’d forgotten who you usually are. Not at all as I have gotten to know you.
But now, as I am thinking about you (did you try to make me think about you?), I wonder how you are doing. I know the dark winter isn’t really your thing. And I know that with each new little earthly trauma, you feed that massive wound inside of you. You feed on all that is unclear, and man, has this year been messy and unclear in so many ways! Have you had to breed loads of mini-doubts, just to make sure you can handle it all?
I think what I’m trying to say is that I miss you. Or, not necessarily miss you, because it’s also nice to be without you. But there was something you once whispered in my ear that made me feel alive, important even. I don’t know if you remember? Or maybe you say that to everyone you meet, but I would somehow like to believe that this specific message was for me only.
“When we are so close that we feel like one, don’t forget: I was never as real as you are.”
It took me some time to understand the meaning of that little whisper. But I have come to appreciate it now. And the thought that I am way more real than we ever were, and that being real, in one way or another, matters more than we think. Because thoughts live in a space of transit. They pass through us, and we remain.
So, Dear Doubt, I thought of you this morning. I thought of you and wanted you to hold me, but also wanted you to leave me alone.
Speak soon!
/Jenny