How To Build A Skeleton Heart: Love Letters

How To Build A Skeleton Heart: Love Letters

December 2009

Hello There

The days are short here.

The winter nights are long.

I am short with not much insulation.

Last night as I was writing to you there was a knock on my bedroom door. It was ignored as I knew it would be Patrick, the live in landlord. A particularly annoying and creepy and pathetic person. He persisted with the knocking. I opened the door a crack. A deliberate defensive stance I know.

‘Is Angelisse in?

‘No.’ I replied flatly.

‘Could you put this on her bed?”

‘Sure,’ I accept the orange plastic bag and close the bedroom door a bit too hard and forcefully. I opened the knot and peered inside the bag. It was nothing but chocolate bars, in variouse sizes. My eyes bulged in surprise, he was such a looser! Trying to buy my roommates friendship and loyalty. This was a silent war that I was winning. He wants Angelisse to spill about me. He knows I am hiding something and he is going crazy trying to catch me out. He hissed at me the other day as I walked from the bath room to the bedroom.

‘I know what you girls talk about
in your room. I hear everything.’

Wow what a charmer, I can see why he is 50years old and living in a share house full of overpaying foreigners.  When Angelisse came home from her swim. I explained what had happened and we sat on her bed, laughing and eating the spoils of a battle not yet over.  I have hated Patrick since before JP left. He tried to bully me into leaving telling me I did not get on with people in the house. Yet on asking the French indie kids and the South African family. I was laughed at for believing Patrick and his lies..

I got your  text message about being alone on a street of town houses. Why aren’t you with family? Its nearly Christmas!

 I am meeting Lauren at Eusten station tonight and we are going to Jane and Catherine’s apartment in Brixton. Four girls far away from home at Christmas. We are all putting in a tenner for food and I am bringing vodka.. I am so excited about getting drunk on Christmas. I have never ever done it. Much less got drunk and seen snow and had to wear tights and two pairs of socks under my jeans to keep warm.

I took an antidepressant last night and it knocked me out into a deep dreamless sleep. When my alarm went off at 7 this morning, I could not move very fast. My body felt cemented to the bed and my brain was white noise. Its 1pm now and I still feel discombobulated and slow.

With us on opposite sides of the
world and all, you see every new day before I do. This means you are in a weird
way older than I. How does it feel?

YOU: Like I want to die now or never.

Classic you.

It snowed so much this week. At first its so beautiful, pure clean and silent. Once the day begins and humans rush through it, the pure white blanket of fluff becomes grey sludge, soft dark and dangerously slippery. Humans sure know how to mindlessly destroy anything lovely.  Have to go now and het organised to meet Lauren. This includes trekking out into the snow to return the movies me and my friend watched last night. The favourite one for me was about a pair of Siamese twin boys that are raised to be in a punk band. I will close with a quote from one of their songs.

This is a message, a message of love to you. Cant you feel it? Cant you feel my eyes on you? Just two ships in an ocean, me and you.’’

Goodbye till next time. I will keep myself warmed from the cold by thinking of you strutting around in sunshine wearing short sleeves, your arms splashed in sunshine.

Much affection, it’s my infection, the infection I got from you.