Dear Oliver,

How I wish that were true. How much I wish I could disappear underground, underwater. Life in daylight seems so bleak, that I wish for the dark that allows me to curl up into a ball and sleep. Sleep that lets me forget. A place where the only horrors are nightmares and not the stark terror of reality.

Don’t dig me up. Let me stay down here where it is black and silent.

There is no hope. I feel I have lost connection to the world and everything I once possessed now possesses me. My love is so far out of reach; pain seems closer and reaches its hand out to me constantly. It offers me something to grasp. Something to hold on to. And if I refuse, I will sink beneath the surface for good. So I hold on to the wrong things, but holding on, nevertheless. The alternative is as good as death.

M.

(The radio is playing our song. It’s bringing me to my knees. I miss my baby.)

Art: Tracy Emin