I wrote this yesterday then proceeded to get quite drunk so forgot to post it.
Dear someone I wish I spoke to more,
You practically raised me. With both of my parents being at work til late at night you were who I spent most of my time with. You taught me to read and write, you played games with me, fed me, bathed me, when I was still feeding from my mum you would take me round to her work when I got hungry then bring me back full bellied and rock me to sleep. Ofcourse you know this because it was you who did all of these things but what you don’t know is that the few and far between childhood memories I have, are with you.
When I lived in Bathgate you were always just the other side of town, having my own room at your house was something I always loved and was always a place I felt comfortable and could sleep safe and sound and not be awake with the monsters. Lyn cottage will forever be my favourite place to be, named partially after me and the place where in the summer we would sit for hours.
When my moods started to get bad I know everything that happened tore you apart and the thought of losing me was something you couldn’t bare and I am inexplicably sorry for what I have and do put you through. You are the only person I can feel comfortable being close with ninety-eight percent of the time and that really does say something about how much I trust you.
I would trust you with my life, in fact I did trust you with my life, without you bringing me up I wouldn’t be here let alone be who I am today.
Moving through to Edinburgh so you could be closer to me was the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me and brought back some sort of stability within my life. Knowing you’re just round the corner again means so much to me.
I wish I found the time to spend more time with you, you’re getting a lot older now and it scares me so much to think that these could be my last few years with you. I’m not ready to lose you, I’m not sure that I will ever trust anyone as much as I trust you and that scares me aswell. It is my mission to stop being so shit and get off my backside and walk the seven minutes round to your house at least three times a week.
Thankyou for raising me, thankyou for loving me, thankyou for being the one person who has never stopped believing in me. Thankyou for being my support and the only person I trust. I love you with all of my life. You are and always will be my guardian angel.
Your book became my life for a few months, i think I have read it around six times and now I have passed it on for someone else to experience.
It was during a hopeless and overwhelming time for me that I first read your book and it gave me something to focus on, something to disappear into and not have to deal with my own mind or the surrounding elements of my downfall.
I could relate to a lot of characters in your book and found peace and tranquility within that. Your style amazed me and inspired me. A lot of people could say that I became obsessional with your book but it gave me something to hold onto and some hope.
I have questions that remain unanswered about the book and the characters within the pages. Meeting you would give me a time and space to ask these musings that so often frequent my head. I would also use the time to thankyou for allowing me to devour and delve deep within your story, for giving me a piece of literature that I could relate to and have it become my source of peace and freedom.
I hope one day that I will meet you and these questions will be answered and my thanks be given. Until then thankyou for creating my third vice and allowing me to participate, even if it did so happen to be with characters from a book.
It’s between four really: Mondays Are Red by Nicola Morgan, I just love the way it’s written and how much detail is involved in every sound and taste and colour, I find synaesthesia fascinating.
South of the Border, West of the Sun by Haruki Murakami, I haven’t read this is a while but it was a book my english teacher gave me, it is a beautiful story.
The Perks of Being A Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky. Since the film has come out everyone loves it but the film made me cry not because of the story but because of how different it was to the book. I was captivated by this book.
Ecstasy by Irvine Welsh, I love Irvine Welsh as a writer, I love his style and the sheer grittieness of this book is just great.