Year End Brag Letter

Normalcy seemed to resound like a year-end brag letter, for out of reach are those possibilities when locked up in a ward. Voices itched inside her body and creepies crawled along her skin. Scheduled meds didn't cessate this, just kept the demons from screaming loud enough for others to hear. I ask about her, in cordial simplicity, through our sporadic letter correspondence, but those words only fill a void that speechlessness requires, for I know she isn't well. Unable to contribute to society must be a burden of worthlessness. Long term, she hasn't seen the trials of the outside world, only the weight of sin within. No muscular arms carry that weigh with love and no one receives her vain attempts. Many boyfriends have left over a decade ago and took her sanity with them. Possible opportunities of redemption are now ghosts that taunt. I flounder for words to tell her plainly about what's going on with my life. Marriage, kids, home, hobbies, a job, all common things, generic to many, seem like a year-end brag letter, for in her life all these things could have been, but are now far out of reach. Instead, I prayerfully and artfully inscribe just one phrase, and only this, "Happy spring, a new beginning." 5/30/20