The 29th of December 1948 – Weston, Massachusetts

(found in the glovebox of a turquoise Ford Vedette)

Hello John,

You can tell me all you want, but you can’t change what I see. At least, you can’t change what I’ve convinced myself that I see.

And what I see is darkness, darkness with no light. You see so much beauty in the world, and so do I, but beneath it, floating there, beneath everything, I see this emptiness, this darkness, this abyss. That’s what fills my sight, not the beauty, but the darkness.

But there are these speckles of light, John. They’re in you and me and everyone around us. We are the twinkling stars that flitter around the night sky and try to shed some light on something for once, just something for a change, just a little fucking light. John – that’s us, that’s what we’re here for.

And we can do anything we want, John. Because all there is is darkness. And all there is is what we can see with our own light.

I am a fire. Perhaps we all are, but I feel it in me, John. I am a light. And when I shine, I see so much, John. But I have to warn you. If you keep smiling at me, I have to warn you.

I don’t care like other people, John. I don’t care like how you care. I don’t care that way. See I don’t understand how you care. Not in general, but just the way that you care – how do you do that? You and everyone else, everyone normal, you care a little bit about a lot of things. I care a lot about a little.

I focus on something until it becomes so important to me, even just in my mind, but it’s so important to me that I feel my soul, my essence, my entire being melt into this molten, bubbling magma until I just can’t take it anymore. That’s how I light the darkness. I burp and let out a little bit of that fire. We all do, I guess, just most do it less – or with more control, more restraint – than I could ever.

And I vacillate between this empty fucking darkness and the brightest, warmest place I could ever imagine, and it all just happens inside me. I don’t know usually what to do with it.

And then something comes along that stokes me even further. That fire burns so bright that I can see it through my skin, through my bones. My gut glows. Pregnant with passion, it radiates like a sun. Then the terrible, inevitable thing happens and I just can’t hold on anymore, so I vomit. I erupt. And my entire world blazes red and yellow. I hear trees crack from the heat spitting from my mouth. I listen as everything rages and roars, lost from my sight in an orange haze. I wait for everything to be cut short by an ashy silence.

So I’m warning you, John. The darkness can free us. The light – my light – might consume us.

So you better be ready,

Tammy

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