In the early hours of Tuesday, 5th December, I typed the very last word.
I’ve slept on it (twice). I’ve read it. Re-read it. Read it all over again. And again. And it’s done! I can complete whole read-throughs without needing to edit once.
Such a weight lifted
To be honest, this letter is a little meatier than intended, and it’s not quite the page and a half I’d hoped. It weighs in at 2,475 words over 6 pages — you have to admit, I’m close.
In fairness, 285 of those words are the poem this whole endeavour spawned. I thought it only right to include it.
According to Hemingwayapp.com, it’ll take a little over 10 minutes to read.
It’ll be 10 minutes of how I feel, and minutes in which I say more to her than I’ve ever said my whole life.
I must confess, should she find it pushing buttons then that was intended. The aim is to show how easily she dislikes me, and since I would’ve been nasty anyway, I thought I’d embrace it and wield it to my advantage.
It might backfire. If so, no change unless it gets worse, but then how much of that would be different?
It might work. If so, the world’s our oyster. I imagine us skipping through fields of daisies, holding hands, falling down, and laughing.
Oh, that laughter, why does it sound so fake?
Probably because I don’t know the outcome.
There is one little delay in sending it.
My printer’s packed in so I need to pop to the library.
And roughly 12 hours after finishing the letter, I missed a recorded delivery.
Someone has sent me a letter I have to sign for, and it could be my mother. It could be someone else but I don’t know who.
I need to find out before I put mine in the post.
I’ll find out tomorrow.