Purple ink with a poem or two, tell me a story and I'll give you one too. I hold my cards so close that I don't believe that they are cards anymore.
I am writing a letter. It is not a fan-letter, it is not a hate-letter, but it is close to a love-letter, but isn’t.
As I write it, I paragraph it, with indents the same measure to “Dearest ….,” I am on my third version of it, not including the version I wrote on my laptop.
I am writing in purple pen, with the odd case of black pen. I am scribbling certain smileys and icons and pictures in the indents and spaces.
There is even that piece of cake, that lies so very often.
Why am I doing this?
Because I want to do something, with effort. That is something physical, that you can touch, hold and read. Which isn’t me.
Because I am going to miss him, very much. But still, I love him more.
And when he comes back, I’ll ask if he read it, and if he would agree with me (which he won’t) that I was babbling for half of it.
I am writing a letter, and it makes me happy, even if it’s just for the day I write it, and when I give it.
I hope that in this year to come, you make mistakes.
Because if you are making mistakes, then you are making new things, trying new things, learning, living, pushing yourself, changing yourself, changing your world. You’re doing things you’ve never done before, and more importantly, you’re Doing Something.
So that’s my wish for you, and all of us, and my wish for myself. Make New Mistakes. Make glorious, amazing mistakes. Make mistakes nobody’s ever made before. Don’t freeze, don’t stop, don’t worry that it isn’t good enough, or it isn’t perfect, whatever it is: art, or love, or work or family or life.
Whatever it is you’re scared of doing, Do it.
Make your mistakes, next year and forever."