Lucid But for a Moment

Dear Sentry,

I apologize for this somber letter to you in advance. How are you doing, though?

There are times when I wish I didn't feel. Dramatic right? The only sense of reason I can apply here is gratitude that I do not possess the power to eliminate emotions because I know it would be rash and just wrong.

Sunday night I learned at last that I do not know what it means to be "in love." I learned that the person that I did like far more than others...sigh...well, I was way more into it than he was. I realize it was silly of me to think as I did. Silly of me to want for something like that. I confess that it's just not easy to write this letter, Sentry. I feel as though my heart is in pain from this. Again, melodramatic, I know.

Look, I realize I'm also sorts of thing that make me utterly human. I'm not asking you, Sentry, to perceive me as superhuman or even above average human. Could you at least, though, deal out some pity to me? I know that in the weeks to come I'll be grateful for this epiphany, this understanding. But right now, it feels like daggers in my heart. This truth has been hard to swallow these past couple of days.

I know I deserve better. I do not say that arrogantly but honestly. I know it so I work to make my life better. To make my life the kind of good that I want others to share with me.

But today, this day, I feel weak and pathetic. I feel...well, human: vulnerable, pathetic, and weak. Tomorrow I will feel those things but enthusiasm, hope, and optimism. But that's tomorrow, Sentry. So, I know I'll heal. I know I'll recover. I know I'll make my life better and richer in experience and joy than it already is. This incident, this epiphany will become yet another force of strength in my life. But today it is an erosion of strength.

Forgive me, Sentry.

Your friend,
Traveler