dear ,

it is 8AM. I am dancing about naked in my bungalow, shuffling across the floor, my hair curled limp against my face and rustled in its bedhead glory. the sky is an effervescent blue - the kind that makes you insist a god must exist - with polka dotted clouds covering a monolith sun that will creak through floorboards surely today, with its almighty heat burning the town like we are icarus flying too close. despite this, it is cold right now, so I walk back towards my bedroom and collect a jumper - the orange/brown fuzzy mohair v-neck that I wear for comfort round the house, it was a present from my host mum in japan - from the clothes that lie strewn across floor, lost from the stacks and piles that lie on shelf high above them, because frankly I am lazy (I tell myself every night, 'you will clean them tommorow, you have the time' but it never happens that way). across from my bed that sits tightly in the corner, a white set of draws holds a miscellany - socks, a variety of items I couldn't shelf, some scarves, spare bedding, a few pencil cases, a spare calico bag and the box of mine that holds anything priceless but precious to me. and in here, of course, are your stars, fishy and underwear, that have almost lost the fruity scent that I initially could not believe was truly yours and not a perfumed fragrance. I am typing this from outside my room, looking at the door, while birds squawk over small pieces of fruit hidden amongst the garden.

last night I had a dream. I was dating this relatively conservative girl who was still at school, it was all very new, and we tried having sex at the back of this cafe and then people caught us, and she insisted to never have sex anywhere but a private bed from then on. I don't remember what happened from here, but when I got home (in sydney, in my old house a few suburbs from birchgrove) I had some breakfast, got changed, and then left again without falling asleep. in order to catch a bus to wherever I had to be, I had cross an unusually busy road, flooded with traffic and such, but made it through after jay walking between crowds of cars. waiting for me was a white mini bus, paint job flaking only a little with the tiniest signs of rust breaking through the surface. somehow, as soon as I walked in, the bus became dark as though streetlights were beginning to bloom, but outside a cold, gray dawn whispered it's frosty air through the metallic chamber. I sat down, the seats decorated in a creamy beige veneer. ray then stepped on, and somehow I had not noticed you seated behind. we all hugged for a moment one by one, then the bus left the stop. we talked about how things were going wrong, raymond had broken up with another woman and had retreated from spotlight once again, consoling himself in long spliffs and cheap, bitter goon, and you had had an awful week, feeling ill and amongst your period. I had talked about feeling directionless. and we all were wearing tracksuit pants, so eventually we all ended up falling asleep in cuddles on the floor.

and soon after that I woke up. it was 7:30 in the morning, reality. I slipped some undies on under my pjs and crossed to the main house. dad made me a strong espresso, thick black like oil in a car engine, and I poured myself a large bowl, then intermittently took a sip or scoop of either, the sweetness of the cereal being covered by the bitter coffee oils that stirred about the bottom of the cup after leaving beans on the shelf too long, and visa versa. after felix had gone to day care with my dad who was dressed in his airforce uniform, and tahnee my step mother had got dressed and began practicing her bassoon, I skipped back to my bungalow, turned on this laptop and checked my facebook - no new notifications - and so I began this message. half way through, the whole message deleted itself and I had to begin again, reciting the same stories only slightly differently worded. now it is 9:06 AM.

I wonder why I am writing this to you (I do not know). is it because of your gaining interest in another? again, I do not know. sometimes I feel despondent towards messaging you, because you reply so infrequently these days; I suppose life must be getting busy, as mine is too. I don't know whether we will make it So-Hyun, to that glorious day where we are physicalised before each other - I'm sure things would be different if that day was tomorrow, but it is not, and for now there is nothing either of us can do to change that. I feel strange repeating 'I love you' right now, I think its meaning might have diminished or something, and am sad for it. I wanna tell you that if I was there, or you here, we somewhere together, I know we would have something, something concrete, something just as special as moon shining at 3 in the afternoon, or those evenings where sunsets appear as though they had been rinsed through endless fields of coffee. I know it, but I can't grab it, and that in itself is more frustrating than anything else. I hope you reply, because my day will be sparse: paperwork and japanese study with a coffee cupping that I wish someone would accompany me to at 6. I feel fragile, and I don't feel like things are going quite right. maybe this is because of what happened last last night with dad, I still feel torn to bits about that, the things they both said, regardless of having both apologised, I think will have more effect on me than I might care to notice. so I am vulnerable, heck, I am at your mercy right now. I know things will get better - they have to - but I just wish someone could be the stable concrete block in my life right now, and I wish that could've been you. oh well... life will get better as soon as uni begins, and I have some sort of social outlet. find a house, start uni, get the government to pay me... yeah.

it is 9:21.

with honesty and big love,