amylevinson

I wrote this letter with every intention of delivering it. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to find an email address or a real social media account to post it. So here it sits. I don't know that this'll actually make it to you, but you, in this moment, have inspired me to write. I want to reminisce over the way you have shaped who I am, and how I miss these bygone moments of my life. Most people want to return to the simplicity of their childhood, and that's what I'm doing here. If you do happen to read this, I hope I've avoided any social faux pas in my wording and I really hope you enjoy it. My ode to you. Eddie? Where've you been? Are

Not every day is as awful as my writing suggests. What you see is my mind cracked wide open on my worst days. And sure, it'd be great if I wanted to describe my best moments and share them with you, but I don't. I'm busy enjoying those moments. For the most part, it seems to be those moments breaking me that inspire me to write. I write so I don't hurt myself or anyone else. All this anger and disappointment has to go somewhere.

I'm trying to figure out how to put together a book.