Wednesdays are the days when I write a letter to someone in my life (past, present, or future) and tell them something. Hence the title, Wednesday Letters.
Dear Question Mark,
I think it's been seven years. Seven years since I wrote you and discovered you had gotten married. I say it as if it was a surprise. It shouldn't have been. You were funny and charming and so good.
I enjoyed getting letters from you, for writing for two years. You made me laugh. I learned how to be a good pen pal.
I'm sad that I still have this question mark. That you're the question mark. Maybe if I hadn't left when I did. Maybe... I could've waited. Six months? That would've been enough to see, decide, change my mind.
Maybe is a powerful word. It does nothing except have this insane ability to make me stop and worry and wonder--and not in a positive, constructive type of way. It's a powerful and useless word. I try to forget that it's in my vocabulary. And maybe one day I'll forget you.
At the end of my life, it will have been just a blip on the spectrum. A small moment in the long timeline. But I'll be grateful for that blip. And for the moment, I think about that time and you, my question mark.
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