8 April 2016
Dear C,
I have been listening to that stupid prison radio on TV. It's all very "gangsta". Each day they have an hour where they read wishes from families, friends and loved ones they wrote to prisoners across the country. I started listening to it and it really made me upset. People who committed the worst crimes can still be forgiven and be getting messages of love, yet I am stuck here with nothing even though I didn't do anything. I wonder if you ever think of me at all. What a fucking stupid question it is actually...?
There were some beautiful messages people said. Really touching. I am glad that those prisoners can feel the love and warmth that other person can give - even if it's through the speakers only. Here it can mean the world to us. I don't expect to know that feeling and coming to terms with it - day by day.
Anyway, how are you doing C? I hope you're getting stronger and stronger each day? I hope there is no more chemo? And that you get to spend your days outside of the hospital.
Today all the movements have been cancelled - apparently down to staff shortages again. I'm ok with that - fewer people to talk to. I don't want to be introduced to someone who murdered or raped the entire family again.
Yesterday I painted a tiny tree on an A4 size paper and out of the blue (well the tree is blue) these words started coming to my head. I took a piece of paper and wrote them down. Then I realized that it looked like a poem of some kind. I started playing around with it a bit and I think I might have written my very first poem to you. Or to anybody actually.
Here it goes:
"I'd like to paint a sky full of stars for you
And an oak that is only blue
Take my hand and come with me
We could lay down under this old, wise tree
To start washing the sorrows away
And stitch our damaged hearts so we could only stay
Stay here in those pink clouds of mere happiness
Where we shall feel no more despair nor loneliness
And in the universe of your precious smile
I would play like a forgotten child
With our hearts forever reconciled"
I wish you could see that small painting I did. It's nothing special, but for me it's priceless. I shall never lose it nor shall I ever give it away. How I wish I could take a photograph of it and send it to you C... But it's impossible. I can only imagine that you can see it now. That's all I have left.
I love you.
Forever yours,
Sebastian