Sometimes I write letters that I never mean to send.
Letters to the Universe full of all my most private thoughts and ideas as a means of working things out in my head.
Sometimes if my words are especially negative or melodramatic, I burn them, as a sort of ritual of release.
This morning I burned a two-page double-sided letter to the Universe, detailing my latest feelings and thoughts of self-loathing, sadness and anger.
The letter burned rather quickly and damn near completely…except for a small scrap of paper on which clearly could be read three words:
If that’s not a fitting observation from the Universe, I don’t know what is.
Perhaps I am caught, indeed.