letter · new years resolution


My Dear,

Strange conversations, we used to have. Before it all fell apart. Ecthelia. Ecthelia. That stupid fucking word has never stopped bothering me. Floating through my mind like déjà vu. It doesn’t really mean anything. Like a tip-of-the-tongue. You know something, but you don’t know what it is that you know. It’s disconcerting. Maybe I’m crazy.

Don’t try to figure this out. It’s not worth it; you never will.




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