Day 78

Adult human walks into a drug store. To buy things. Adult things.
Not candy or chocolate bars. No. This adult human goes to the greeting card aisle to buy a card. "Not adult enough!" I hear you exclaim. Well what if I told you this purchase wasn't for an immediate situation or individual. This purchase is in anticipation of a future event, should one require a greeting card.
Very adult.
While stamps shall also be purchased, in case future cards nee future mailing services.
Afterall, what good are good wishes, if the receiver cannot receive them?
Much maturity.
And of course a good pen will be purchased here as well, for the one day well wishing trinkets to include a personalized message of comradery.
These items all are purchased with the use of monetary bills or plastic cards. No pennies were counted out for this purchase.
With their bag of goods he adult human walks home. Not so fast as to be accused of horsing around, but not so slowly as to be seen as dilly dallying. Their walking speed is an appropriate adult speed.
Once home the adult removes their boots, without needing to be asked. They are adult. Not child.
They enter their domicile - not my room - and sort the contents of the bag.
The pen shall be sorted into a cup. The cup is decorative and specifically for the containment of writing utensils. It is not a cup for the drinking of juice or water.
The stamps shall go into the letter writing drawer next to the desk on which the not drinking cup sits.
The unspecified cards shall also go into the letter writing drawer.
And should an occasion or event arise, in which greeting cards are necessary, our adult human is prepared.
Surely they will send cards. They will be sent on time, with full knowledge of the nation postage systems expected delivery times. Birthdays. Congratulations. Thank you's. Thinking of you's.
Adults are prepared to send correspondence at the drop of the hat. As this adult is an adult, not a child pretending at adulthood, they too can correspond instantly.
... Except they wont.
They still have cards from the last time they tried this. Some of the envelopes even have addresses on them.
They inside of these impersonal half folded pieces of card stock remain empty.
Writing in them is the hardest part.
Because to this truly adult person, it is a sign of submission. Submitting to distance and time. That we didn't just see each other yesterday and we likely won't see each other tomorrow. And there's a picture of an animal on the front of this so we'll both just pretend that's enough to forgive the months to years we haven't been face to face.
Because the world is too big. And when I go to write down a personal message to you, I just want write:
I miss you so much in this moment. Deeply. Sadly. Completely. And it won't last, because I need to get back to my life. But right now, I feel the hole in my life that you should occupy. And it hurts me ... So happy birthday?So a drawer full of good intentions. And all because someone didn't have the grownup ability to numb the little kid heart that still beats.
... I hate greeting cards.