Hey Askim I can’t sleep… Maybe it’s the blood moon lunar eclipse. I’m restless tonight.  My heart is restless.  I miss you.

I’ve resisted the urge to write to you… mainly because we both needed to find our feet again, and partly because it’s not fair that you get these notes and I get nothing :/

But that’s life eh. I ****** up and here we are…


There’s a few things I wanted to say after our chat.
When I said we moved offices and weren’t in your building, I got my cities confused. (I hadn’t slept much either). I have no idea where our offices are in your city. I’ve never been there and I don’t plan on visiting them. I just wanted to clear that up.

I forgot to share that I wore the scarf you knitted me for the first time a few months ago :) and then again last week. It’s so warm and it feels like a comforting hug around my neck.  It’s one of my most cherished possessions. That and my teapot.

I still use the kettlebell gloves you gave me. Every week. I used to put them on and feel anger as I worked out. The anger is gone Askim. I can’t thank you enough for sharing that time with me a few weeks ago.

Do you remember the wild poppies in my garden. Tiny little red poppies. I collected the seeds and sprinkled them around the neighbourhood. The streets around my home now have them every November. I’m going to keep collecting the seeds and spreading them. The flower of remembrance… my silent tribute to our, now distant, love.  

I still have a few succulents from our time and a single white orchid. I left so many of them to die, unfortunately, when I was in a very dark place. There’s so much I didn’t share about my dark days… But I look after the plants now. I hope to share them with you again one day…

My teapot is back on my desk.

I know you’re back on your feet. Going about your day. I miss you.

I don’t know what will become of this library of love and pain. I can’t use it to write love notes into the black void. And I’m not asking you to come back. You need to respect the life you live. I respect the life you live.

This place is therapy for me… but I don’t know what its future holds. I don’t know what it will become for me, apart from somewhere to empty my heart when it all gets too much.
Is it unfair on you that you have no right of reply… is it unfair on me that I receive no reply? I don’t know Askim. It’s just how life worked out…

As I finish this letter, the eclipse has passed. The blood red moon, washed by the sun, she is radiating a pure innocent white again.

Missing you tonight…