i was a small, hot, dot

Open letter to vague ideas in their most primordial, beautiful forms:

Thank you for showing me where my friends are at and where my friends aren't at and everything in-between.

Thank you for revealing deceit.

Thank you for I know that fabulosity exists and exists to be enacted in places that long for it daily.

Thank you for the idea of salvation.

Thank you for the pleasures of grief.

Thank you for chocolate.

Thank you for the idea of Yes and No.

Thank you for giving us objects of wrath.

Thank you for spatial coordinates.

Thank you for demons and lemons and Le Monde de Biscuit.

Thank you for making death consequential.

Thank you for consequences.

Thank you for making us unstable creatures groping in the darkness to latch on to unsuitable metaphors every single time, believing in the idea of truth, believing that our beliefs are ours and ours alone, being able to sit down and eat hummus in air-conditioned sadness.

Thank you for brokenness and thinness and their adjectival playmates.

Thank you for the skull that houses the mind and this garage-door mouth.

Thank you for the things we say to hear other things said to us in return.

Thank you for coins.

Thank you for pockets.

Thank you for street alleys and diaphragms.

Thank you for the language of flowers and the swelling of tides and the phases of the moon.

Thank you for wrists and toiletries.

Love,
S