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Creative Writing
the thankyou letter
the thankyou letter I doubt that the format of this letter brings any true romance to what I am about to say, as typed words and printed letters are harsh and unfeeling. In this day and age, however, I suppose that this is a faster and easier way than paper and ink, a letter scratched out lovingly by hand. Don’t read it as such…as sterile and unfeeling. For the words I put down here are the same, if more fluid, than those of anything I could possibly write using the more traditional methods. And please don’t be daunted by the flowery prose that I am using, as presently I am in a strange, floating mood that leaves the room for nothing but softness and exaggeration of expression in what I feel. I’m sitting here at home looking through what seems like a whole other lifetime of “stuff” and I’m thinking of you. I’m thinking of you and I like what is running through my head. My heart is presently jumbled; anxious, ill suited for simply sitting around with nothing to do. I want a change somehow, and I do not know where, or how, or why. All I know is I’m worried and the thought of you can no longer make it better. To say that things in my life are changing would be an understatement. To say that they are constantly doing so would be a bit of a lie. As there have been times when I have been stuck in the same rut, floating about in a sea of ennui and non-movement. Still, I’m afraid of change, to be honest with myself and with you. I’m terrified of it. I’m a creature of habit and though on the surface I can appear chaotic and unpredictable, I find solace and comfort in that which is stable, that which does not rock the boat, as it were. But paradoxically, that same comfort is what kills me, what rips apart my creativity and dulls every sense I lay claim to. You changed that and I was and am no longer sitting still, I’m moving forward, sometimes moving in to something unknown and wonderful, sometimes being shoved so fast into it I can’t quite see what’s around me. It was beautiful, the feeling. And quite scary, but now all my former worries are back, and several new ones are surfacing. But I have learnt, or rather; I am still in the process or learning, that life is just one big adjustment. And once you’ve stopped, there’s no living, no joy, no surprises. I’d rather be on the constant cusp of something happening than in the safety and monotony of a rut. And the realisation of this is the reason I’m writing to you. I want to thank you for everything you have said and been to me, despite the occasional vulgarity or silliness that I know everyone is prone to. I want to thank you for the comfort that you brought to me, and for the beauty and hope you showed me each time I saw you. Your outward appearance is beautiful to me. Your delicate hands, your soft smile, your eyes that can be so loving and amused one moment and so serious and intelligent the next, or often all at the same time. I found your body pleasing and the contact that you made with me was a joy to me. You were, and still are, a joy to me, and though what I see on the outside is wonderful, it was what was inside that I enjoyed the most. Your thoughts, your feelings, the ways in which you express them. Your faults, your perfections, all of these mingle and weave themselves into the person that I got to know and the person I fell I love with. I want to know more. And although it may sound greedy, I want to know all of you and who you are and what you are, and all the rest that cannot be categorised. And simply, as I said before, I want to thank you. Thank you, for everything you are to me, everything you have been to me, and everything you will always remain to me. Bibliography:
Word Count: 704
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