I hope you’re enjoying the sun and the outside. I hope you’ll get to see the family soon. I hope your hair is freshly died and your body is beach-ready. I’m doing all I can to make sure that, when you get a quiet moment, somewhere with a view, on a warm summer evening, just the way you like, you’ll be able to see things from a perspective and you’ll remember me and we will hug each other. You’ll thank me and I’ll wish you the best.
While I’m making that body beach-ready, I’m also trying to make it catastrophe-ready, in case things unfold in a different way. I’ve never done that before so I’m basically doing things in the same way but it’s not really the same. I don’t know how to explain it but I’m sure you will be able to understand. You’ll be wiser than I am now. I hope you won’t be angry at me for being stupid or ignorant, or for buying bad food supplies. Or not enough of them.
I hope you won’t be angry at me for not being able to write to you about the other things I’m preparing for. I’m too scared because my mind is twisted – my wild imagination and all the dark fantasies I’ve had, they are haunting me, I can sense them waiting for the first chance to jump into reality, come true and triumphantly say, yet again, “how naive of you to think you could imagine this” or “you couldn’t make this shit up” (either way, they’ll be mocking my ability to imagine). I’m holding them behind the door, in a quarantine, if you like, until I am sure that I can or have to face them.
As you can see, I don’t know much about what I should be doing and how I should be preparing. But one thing I do know – do not fool yourself, not even in the summer, and do not fool your future self. Keep taking care of that body and the soul and keep making promises to your future versions.