A Letter to 221B

Dear Watson,

I owe you this dedication as my dearest, and only, friend.

Solitude has given me time to relate back to what’s really at focus. I’m beginning anew, creating my own mix of identities that were stifled in my childhood. This death in part had to be done, surely you can hold this to your chest when you find it unfair. I know that I am unfair, but my intentions mean well.

Cleaning the mess my Moriarty left me is an integral part of the case. Just like writing the letter to your father was for you. Remember that argument we had in the kitchen? By god you humans always fight me tooth and nail on my deductions. Remember I had to tell you it was the only way it could be done as well? It took a year to persuade you but eventually you wrote it. I’ll never forget how much it took a toll on you. The bravery you showed was able to change the entire relation of your family, too.

You may have even been able to save him from the addiction. We solved that case together, me and most importantly, you.

I called that one, ‘The Dying Man’.

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“Would you say you’re an open book?”

“I believe anything is readable so long as you learn to decipher the code in question.”

I think I used to want people to know what was going on in my head. I think I thought that if I could spell it out for them I’d feel less lonely and that it would make us more similar. Juvenile thoughts from when I was merely a girl.

They just rallied with their pitchforks.

Now my binding is torn loose and all of the pages have been strewn across a diagnostic. It’s still open, it’s just no longer a story in chronological order. People don’t like to read what they cannot relate to, they are not as fearlessly curious as some of their counterparts.

“That’s a good way to think. We should never stop trying to connect with those around us.”

My eyes cast up like daggers, the airy tone irks me because I do not feel the same way and I know that comment was charged with purpose. The aura on either side of the room is completely fluxed and I’ve no idea why no one is ever clever enough to learn this language.

I hear the voice whisper back, ‘because yours is indecipherable’, and I pull a grin because it is true.

I close my eyes off to a garden where I could plant my rose bushes and touch the tails of koi fish drifting by in their consistent ebb and flow. Where my irises fall to a human spectrum of sight and my breathing syncs with the peace of ignorance. Closed off to anything but the sound of trickling water and all the hidden whispers on the breeze.

“______? Are you okay?”

The words are like fingers snapping in front of my face and eventually I’m back in the room.

“I don’t particularly think people view us the same way.”

Like Victor Frankenstein and his Monster, you could agree one is good and the other is bad but which one is which will all lie in personal speculation. The truth is, good and bad don’t exist and societal preference hasn’t dawned on that notion yet. They haven’t dawned on a lot of things, if you ask me.

“I take it loneliness is something you’re no stranger to?”

“I believe loneliness is like a blanket. Sometimes it’s so thick and heavy it keeps out the light, other times, it keeps out the cold. Either way, you don’t get to choose if you’re born into it. They just wrap you up and send you on your way. The rest is yours to figure out and I suppose that’s half the fun in it.”

My tone is cool, concise and vacant. That is all it ever takes to silence a room.

Codes, clues and cues over Sunday coffee; and I am pulling my blanket up over my head and dodging reality like a reoccurring nightmare.

– B.

Breaking Upbringings

When I look at the rich I see the poorest of quality lifestyles. I may be bias, given my submergence in a ‘well brought up’ home, but you’ve got to realize that everything comes with a price. Money isn’t the true cost of these things, passion is.

I am the corpse pulled from the coffin of inbreeding. Nobody ever worked on their issues in my household, they just kept passing them down and trying to act like living out the American dream was success. We were all miserable, I was the only one bold enough to show it.

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Long, Lost Raven

I still have the first poetry book I ever received, dated all the way back to my childhood. I think my dad got it for a couple of cents at a garage sale. It had someone else’s handwriting on the inside, along with various check marks next to the previous owners favorite pieces. (I read those ones first, we didn’t have the same taste.)

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An overdue run-in with the Twins of Happiness | Part 1: Our Emotional Spectrum Series

What some would call a peculiar, slightly nostalgic event wound me up at a picnic table outside of my local park with a duo I hadn’t really spoken with since I was a little girl. Now I can’t say for certain that my recalling of this event would help anyone. I suppose my original purpose for posting it was merely to a spread a message – their message – which seemed to have given me a much different perspective on my adult life and the way in which I deal with it. So perhaps it could help enlighten someone else, and I like to hope that’s a purpose of mine. 

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I asked the Void a question and It answered back. 

Why don’t I feel full yet? Content. I feel lost on my path. Or maybe mine just doesn’t lead anywhere at all. 

Your nonsensical musings will never leave you, but they do serve their own purpose. 

No matter how whiny you get when it doesn’t go your way. 


It’s true. If you want something bad enough, trust me, you’ll do it. 
There’s no way you can not do it. 

It’s already seeped into your soul and matured your thoughts.
You’ve already begun to pave the path. 
From such a young age, too. So young. 

Then what makes it so hard to accomplish?

You do. 

You’ve got a hidden desire to avoid the rush
You’ve got to want it more than anything in the word. 
You’ve got to bleed for it, beg for it. 
You don’t want to do that right now. 

You want to love, and gaze at the flowers along the way, grow stronger, fuller. 
Deep down you want this to take it’s time. You’ve slowed it to a brisk walk, you’re not running at all anymore. 
Truth is, in this lifetime, you may never really reach the end of your path. Most don’t. 
But you will get there eventually. 

What would happen if I chose to run instead?

Good question, most don’t ask

And don’t you remember? You used to run, you used to run until your legs gave out. 
You started to look back on all the little moments you lost along the way. 
Your memory became hazy, your visions and morals blurred into something inconceivable to who you are now. 

You were lonely as ever. Here with me. 
And in that loneliness you realized the real prize all along was the journey itself. 
The journey that you so unabashedly wish to ignore again. 

Humans really are so petty with their own self-destruction…

So what you’re saying is it’s best for me to just stop and smell the flowers from time to time?

Depends. How fast do you want this to end? Personally, I don’t really think you’re the ‘stopping’ type. 
But it’s true that you finish your path at your highest level. 
You can either choose to skip some parts, and lose out on the sight seeing,
Or you could take your time in a brisk walk, and finalize your small, inconsistent details into a stone legacy for others, as equally as confused as you, to follow suit. 

I do love a well-paved path.

Most do, but they never tend to it enough. 

I’ll let you in on a little secret though – there are no rules on how to mind your path. Subsequently, there’s no answer for any of your questions. 

If you look carefully, you will notice there is far more than just flowers along the way. 
You control the speed, the weather, all your dreams flitting up in the clouds, sometimes you even intertwine with another person. 

All of it is in your hands. 
You are the only one capable of paving the way to your future. And how you choose to pave it will depend on how long it lasts. 

That all sounds extremely difficult. 

It will always be difficult, and I guarantee you will falter from time to time, but it doesn’t always have to be so damn scary. 
At the end of the day it’s natural to us all, we all just want to be back on our paths. 
With the free will, the options, the choices and the scenery. 

After all, if you’re not looking ahead, you’re here.

With me. 

‘wisdom can be gained from anything, even the darkness.’