Dear D

Silence is the only thing I wish for you to appreciate and adhere to right now.

You cast words around, like how the baton of a music conductor commands the piece. With each flick of the baton, you unknowingly conduct your symphony of ire, rage, bitterness and repressed violence. One swish, the orchestra begins with a low, impatient hum. In the next moment, the ire rises. Then you flick your wrist, inviting a chorus of strained vocals. And with your arms sweeping into a great arc and the baton tracing calligraphic spite, you rouse the symphony to dizzying heights! - the clash of frequencies, the chaos from the heated words, the pandemonium of rattled furniture. Yet you continue on, deep in the throes of your bubbling annoyance and myopic thoughts, oblivious to the turmoil you're stirring in the members of your orchestra...and in your audience. Me.

So stop it. Shut the hell up. Stop the unnecessary comments and snide remarks. Quit being the hot-headed ogre because you're capable of so much better. Because I still want to keep you on that pedestal right alongside the only other person I'd do anything for. Because I want to have good memories of you, not ones where all I can remember is a grouch shouting, annoying and grating on my nerves. Stop it, & stop being the stranger.

Much love,

C.