The Awaiting Letter

Photo by Abbey Steinman

By Abbey Steinman

To my darling group of friends,

I told you I’d write about us one day, and here I am fulfilling it.

On the days where I don’t see you is another day where I ache in agony. Well, it’s not that bad, but it’s pretty bad. To not be able to look at you in front of me or when I turn to the side disappoints me. Who am I going to express the next absurd emotion I have waiting to be let out of its cage? Another goes by where I’m incomplete if I haven’t seen you. This water sign gets anxious sometimes without her other signs beside her.

When I listen to certain songs, I think of us. Specifically, I think of the times when we would drive down whatever road-going more than however many miles over the speed limit with the music cranked to the max. It’s loud to the point the speakers start to shake uncontrollably, almost as if they are about to burst. All the side windows are rolled down-even the sunroof is popped open. It’s as if we wanted everyone to hear us. We wanted everyone to know we were those teenagers. I don’t regret irritating anyone who drove past us one bit. Did they deserve to hear us pour our hearts out to the groovy jarring songs we listened to? No. But did we let them anyway? Of course. 

If only the next time I played one of our car songs, you’d be there with me. Sitting alone in my car singing the songs we’re meant to sing together isn’t as fulfilling. I miss having all five seats in my car being full. I miss being able to look into my rearview mirror, and I’m able to catch a glimpse of you looking at the window or you seeing my stare and smiling back. 

I especially miss the days where we would bombard every coffee shop we could. Trying new lattes or iced coffee were the highlights of my days. Well, if I’m fair, I would always get the same thing every time. But, you know I’ve gotten better about that. 

That’s the thing: you know I’ve gotten better, and I know you’ve gotten better too. I think about it more than I probably should. It’s hard to comprehend what’s going on with the world at large. Yet, we still managed to enjoy rotting away in our bedrooms together with our LED lights changing colors throughout the night with our Tropical Smoothie by our side. 

Without a doubt, on nights like those, someone’s bound to get a tarot reading. It’s here where we let our inner selves geek out and discuss the thoughts that rule our minds. I wouldn’t want anyone else witnessing me getting the Nine of Pentacles more than three times. I can’t do that with just whoever.

I also notice the little gestures you make when you stick your tongue out with a wink or when you stand with one leg out and your hands digging into your jacket pockets intensely. I giggle to myself, there they go again. I miss being able to do that. 

I hope we can all be together again eventually. Not just the two or three of us, all five of us instead once more.

Love from your dearest Scorpio, 



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