To Nick

Dear Nick,
Do you know how some people say that writing in your second language is a lot easier than writing in your mother tongue? Well the theory goes like this: Writing in a language that is not your mother tongue lays a distance between you and the words, like you're standing behind a glass wall and your words are on the other side. You've never lived through these words, you know what they mean, but only from a distance. Your mother tongue, on the other hand, knows you inside out. She knows everything you feel, everything you go through, and even if she doesn't have the words for it, she knows you better than any other language. Because you see, language is not just some letters that are attached together to give you a certain meaning, language is culture, it's memories and scents and love letters. But here's the problem; English is not my first language, but it's become too familiar that i feel like the words strip me bare whenever i approach them. I become too vulnerable whenever i hold a pen in my hand and you know how much i hate vulnerability. I hate the idea of being exposed like an open wound bleeding for all to see. And for a while English has managed to hide that vulnerability to some extent. But now i feel like English knows me better than my mother tongue and it's very inconvenient for me. That's why i have decided to move on to another language, another hide-out, and hope the words can still give me shelter. Et je pense que le français est celui pour moi. I know you're thinking this is absolutely bizarre and that i should find something better to do with my time instead of think about these things. But what can we do? We are who are. Anyhow, i miss you, and i hope you're well. I know you hate the winter, so i hope  this letter finds you warm.

Yours always,