They say pain makes you know what’s important to you. I’d heard that nakumatt downtown burnt, but it didn’t sound serious. Then I heard some rumours at work, and I was on capital and BBC and Nation and any other site i could find.

You’ve been on my mind a lot lately. In my thoughts, in my dreams. But I wouldn’t let myself call you. I think of you sometimes, lots of times, but I don’t want to bother you. Truth is, I’m a little afraid of you, and I’m only partly sure why.

I texted you this morning, on a whim. I’ve texted you a few times, in my mind, a few times on my phone, but I never clicked send until today. I watched it for a while, waiting for ‘delivered’, but it didn’t come.

I ‘avoid’ you, coz it’s easier that way. It hurts a little to be around you, and to see others around you, so I just stay away, then you can safely think that I don’t care. Coz you said you don’t want me to care.

I told myself I didn’t care. Had myself pretty convinced. But when I opened BBC, saw the ruins of nakumatt, saw the 13 dead and 40 missing, the first thing I did was call you.

Your number isn’t working.

I read about people calling their sisters, their mothers, their loved ones, telling them they’re trapped and can’t get out. Would you call anyone? You don’t like a fuss. You don’t admit you’re scared. You’re a free spirit, you’d find some way out, you’d go down fighting, but you wouldn’t call anyone.

I read about people who’d said they were going downtown. You wouldn’t do that. You’re impulsive, adventurous, you never plan. And you hate peopel keeping tabs on you. If you were missing, no-one would know where to look for you. Would we even know you weren’t there?

Your boss would know, coz you never skip work. And he’d call your cell and find it dead, and he’d maybe check your house. But then what? Would we find you?

Your number isn’t working.

I hope you’ll get to read this. I hope you won’t be angry with me. I hope you’re safe. I hope you’re not trapped somewhere under smoking wood. And I hope the people camped outside nakumatt downtown aren’t as scared as I am. Nothing hurts like not knowing.

Please be safe my friend.

7 thoughts on “A letter

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