The Electronic Corpse

Hearts

And that’s the thing about cities. They are never quite what you expect them to be. You have this idea, this amazing idea of a place and it grows and grows unti there’s no room left for anything but that idea and so when you finally get to a place and the truth of it bears little resemblance to the idea you’ve so carefully cultivates, that’s when you understand what it means when people say, “The truth hurts.”

But there’s this letter and after I read it, for the first time since moving to Chicago, I felt less alone or I felt more alone and more comfortable with my solitude. That’s the thing about loneliness. Sometimes it’s unbearable and sometimes, it is exactly what you need. I’m never quite sure what it is for me.

The first time I read the letter, I was drinking wine from a Solo cup, because, I’ll be honest, tea does very little for this kind of loneliness. Tea only warms my hands and burns my tongue. My hands started shaking as I read the letter because there was so much truth, so much sorrow. I decided I was in love. It’s that easy for me which is, J says, one of my many problems. The letter was written by a woman. I knew that even before I saw her name at the bottom, Michaela, the ends of each letter looping prettily into the next.

I texted J, u won’t believe what i just read, but she didn’t respond so I took a picture of the letter and sent it to her. She loves stuff like this, evidence of beating, human hearts in the world. She says there’s not enough heart these days so when we find evidence, we need to handle it carefully. We need to bear witness.