This is Weird
Dear Stranger,
Hi. I’m Cassandra Danworth. You don’t know me, and I don’t know you.
Writing this letter feels odd. Who writes to someone they’ve never met? Someone who may never care what I have to say. Maybe that’s the point.
I don’t think we talk enough, as a species, about how ridiculously difficult it is to make basic conversation. People act like it should be fun, but it isn’t. It’s like playing tennis, and you have to stay permanently perched on the balls of your feet just to work out where the ball is coming from and where it’s supposed to go next. Is it their turn? My turn? Will I get there fast enough? Have I missed my shot? Did I just interrupt theirs? Am I hogging the ball? Is this a gentle back-and-forth rally, just to waste time, or would they prefer one of us to just smack it into the corner?
At least here, I don’t have to guess. I just write. You just read.
Except now the focus is on me, which makes me want to stop.
∙∙∙
Okay, I’m back…let’s try this again.
Hello. I’m Cassandra Danworth. You don’t know me, and I don’t know you.
I was told writing to a stranger might help me express emotions without interruption. They said it would help.
That’s the thing I’ve never really understood about emotions. We’re given unhelpful words for them—sad, happy, angry, scared, disgusted—but they’re not accurate, and there never seems to be anywhere near enough of them. How could there be? Emotions aren’t binary or finite: they change, shift, run into each other like colored water. They are layered, three-dimensional, and twisted; they don’t arrive in order, one by one, labeled neatly. They lie on top of each other, twisting like kaleidoscopes, like prisms, like spinning bird feathers lit with their own iridescence.
I know I’ve said a mouthful, but the full truth is not easy or comfortable; it is often far safer to construct an alternative that keeps everyone happy instead.
When I finally show people who I truly am, it’s not what anyone wanted, and they explode right in front of me.
So yes, being around people is hard. I still try. I go to work, though my boss keeps firing me, but I keep showing up, trying to make it work. I also have a boyfriend who keeps breaking up with me, and I keep putting us back together, trying to make it last.
Relationships are a human need, so part of me wants them: the job, the boyfriend. But at the same time, I want to be alone. And the complete truth is that I am mostly on my own. I am so permanently alone that I can feel it in my bones, in my eyeballs, in the roots of my hair. I feel loneliness like a physical presence, as if someone heavy is sitting on my chest. I feel it when I wake up, and I feel it when I walk down the street. I feel it when I eat and when I dance; I feel it when I'm with people, and I feel it when I'm not. I feel loneliness inside me, all of the time, but I also like to be alone, and I don't really like other humans much either, so where the hell does that leave me?
Where does this leave us? Again, you don’t know me. I don’t know you. You’ll probably never hear from me again. But wherever it ends, it’s not an ending at all. It’s like the last page of a book pretending to be a conclusion. But life isn’t like that. Neither is this letter.
Bye,
Cassandra Dankworth
This letter was inspired by the book Cassandra in Reverse by Holly Smale. Some lines slipped directly from its pages:
I don’t think we talk enough, as a species, about how ridiculously difficult it is to make basic conversation….or would they prefer one of us to just smack it into the corner?”
And the complete truth…so where the hell does that leave me?
That’s the thing I’ve never really understood about emotions…like spinning bird feathers lit with their own iridescence
Like the last page of a book pretending to be a conclusion. But life isn’t like that…
Short Content Brew: Not every story brews the same. This one feels light to sip, but it carries more strength than you expect, with some funny twists along the way.
The Cup We’d Share
Consider this a moment to sit down with Cassandra over a steaming cup of tea. The Authenticitea Barista (a character from my upcoming book, A Cup of Authenticitea) would pour something to match her spirit: a blend to linger with, a mood to steep in, and a question to carry forward.
A Sip of Contradiction
Tea Blend: Black Assam + Lavender
Mood Pairing: For moments when you want closeness and distance at the same time.
Flavor Note: Bold and tannic with a floral edge — comforting and abrasive, together in one cup.
Reflection: How do you hold the space between needing others and needing to be alone?
Why this letter?
I met Cassandra through the audiobook "Cassandra in Reverse." Her energy was overwhelming at times. I had to pause before hitting play again. She reminded me of students I’ve worked with, colleagues I’ve worked beside, and others I’ve met along the way — how differently we each communicate, process, and express emotion. Sometimes we need breaks from each other. But that doesn’t mean we can’t tune in.
It’s why I let this letter slip from the pages — to share a piece of her voice with you, and to remind us what it means to listen differently.
So tell me: have you ever needed a pause from someone’s energy, but found your way back in? Hit reply and spill the tea — you know I love hearing from you.
That’s the sip I’ll leave you with today. Thanks for reading — until the next page.
