31 Letters in 31 Days: Letter 31 – Dear Philip Liddell


Dear Philip Liddell,

Phil, Phil, Phil. Where to bloody start? When I first saw you back in 2001, hours before the towers collapsed, I thought you looked just like Seth Green. I fell for you and you fell for my sister. Who could blame you though? She’s fucking gorgeous. I was a bitch to you for years for absolutely no reason. My head was so overtaken with anorexic/depressive/obsessive thoughts, that I believed you had ‘taken’ my sister away from me. That you were ‘leading’ her to a life of, well, not very much expect smoking weed and such and such. How wrong was I? I had taken myself away from my sister, and from the rest of the world. Over the ten years I have known you, we have grown together, as I have recovered, and you have shaped yourself into your writing and art. Only we know how this has happened. Our poetry, our experiences, our mistakes, they have bonded us. We have shared everything. I still have the letters you wrote to me, when you were at one end of the country, and I was at the other. Tonight, you gave me a leather bracelet with today’s date inscribed on it. I wanted to cry. You told me to inscribe the names of everyone I meet onto it. I’m not sure if there will be space, but I shall try. You told me that if I lost it, it wouldn’t matter because it would be lost in Iceland. I never know what to expect from you, and tonight, you did what you do best. You left me feeling thankful, grateful, honoured, to have Philip Liddell; writer, poet, artist, dreamer, doer as my friend.