"Can I tell you a secret?" inked quiet on a blue sticky note, delivered safely to my mailbox... inside, full of music and sound, that fleeting joy I've been holding desperately onto for a month now, trying to believe that this is actually happening, that you might actually be here, that this might really be different... trying not to run the other direction... let the music quiet me. Then you sent me this music, for real, and I'm quiet. And in this quiet is something magnificent. In this quiet, I'm telling you. This is what I fall asleep to.

Butterflies and noise... the way it looks like my ceiling never ends in the darkness, like it goes straight up to the sky it's so tall. I fall asleep to the song of myself. Stopped playing that list that I love, but, God, it just haunts me now. I fall asleep to blankets and Maxie and chimes and carousels and, sometimes, tears. I fall asleep to words and laughter and people, but always just myself. In this quiet, there are a million mes with a million yous and the part of that one Decemberists song and your voice, now, singing me to sleep. That's what I fall asleep to... I fall asleep to hope, to forgiveness, to prayer. I never make it to the "Amen." I fall asleep to chance, to "maybe tomorrow," to another go, to not letting go. Sorry after sadness after mania after depression after joy after chaos after colors after travel after homelessness after hot breath on car windows and sitting alone. Solitude. Missing you. Missing somebody I don't know how I know so well so fast. Missing lines and curves and circles and always depth. I'm not sure if I know how to do this. Nothing is happening. I'm not lying when I say this. Nothing is happening. But, at the same time, there is something being written between the lines I'm not bold enough to write, something collapsing and rebuilding before I even knew there were blueprints, letters, cliches, and that ever present sinking feeling that I don't know how to do this.

What I fall asleep to is infinite possibility, and the song of you. Because even if I don't know how, I promise, for you, I'll try.