Henry,

You want us to dream our dreams together but how will we know we are in fact dreaming the same dream, if the words we use to describe them to each other, are so drenched in hope and belief? My scars teach me not to trust my own words around you, let alone trust myself with yours. So if sharing our dreams of the future seems this hard, how can there be any hope of sharing something so fluid as reality itself, that elusive continuum where everything actually happens. Even words not weighed down by hope or believe would still sink in its flow. Solid and rigid, words can only be used to describe a slice of life, forever frozen in perfect contradiction with the nature of reality. I have no desire to be caged in such a frozen state, or in your “home only to whom you and I have changed into”.

My dreams are my consciousness set free, to share them would mean capturing them, holding them down. So no, even if I were to trust words again, my dreams must fly. I will share with you only my whole life with its frozen past, its fluid present and fleeing future, for nothing less than the same drenched and absurd promise in return. I don’t care for replacements, I need us to be everyone we ever were and everyone we could ever be. This is how I will meet you, Henry, as hopeless believers trying to be the best amongst the rest of ourselves.

Ariana