Letters from a still face

You've gotten used to the preamble. “I'm fine, that's just my face.” “I do care, I just don't show it like that.” You've said it so many times it's started to sound like an apology, and you are so tired of apologizing for a face you didn't choose.

Here is what I know, from thirty-seven days of being read wrong: the people worth keeping don't need the preamble. They watch what you do, not what your mouth is doing. They notice that you stayed, that you remembered, that you texted first. They decide you're warm before you've had the chance to prove it.

The others were never going to see it anyway. Save your breath.

I'm still learning this. Some days I don't believe it. But I believe it enough to write it down.

If there's someone who needs to hear something your face won't say, that's the one thing I do. One true line about them to [email protected]. First line free. 25 dollars by card, and only once it's written.