Where do I go from here? Going out since the last time we saw each other—in a pathway riddled with the clamor night-market vendors—and not meaning to remember you in all the places I’ve lost you. How do I dissipate into flume?

The sacred wreath you’ve hung in my heart-strings are now but shabby threads of green, purple, and white. Christmas will come, the holiday festivities will commence, and I will escape the joyous odes of everyone around me by reading about LSD, witch trials, and contemplating re-watching Titanic. A place nearby still calls to me in the hopes that I will build a home. The breathing exercises I do seem to be of no consolation. My heart still achingly wants what it achingly wants. I am still wary, despite hugs and hand holding from friends. Friends are my only lovers. Friends are my only consolers, the only ones who will break my heart and simultaneously piece it back together. After an art/comic event where I sold my first ever zine, a work of my heart, I downed vodka with people I trust. A surprising set of first times. Always now I’m looking for a way to consummate my history, to cancel all impending heartbreak, and try to learn from but not reconcile with the past.

All sadness is an epilogue.

Closing a paragraph is like tying loose ends of thread together to sew a masterpiece. I look down at the unraveling of threads on my dusky pink sweatshirt and feel sad that all I’m ever gonna be to my family and friends is a burden. How do I untangle everyone else from myself? How do I redeem myself from this lion’s den? I am a Daniel of my own making.

If you have my email, please send hand-typed letters. Happy Holidays. ♦