I Opened the Letters

Dear Delyara, No letting them sit there turning into atmosphere. No pretending the dread was preparation. No waiting for a “better time” that would never feel better emotionally than the truth itself. I opened the letters. Bills, statements, dates, reality. And what surprised me was how much smaller the facts felt than the fog I had been living in by not facing them directly. That is what I’m proud of. Not that the situation vanished. That I stopped letting vagueness frighten me more than truth.