Dear friend,
Once, I imagined we could be the best of friends. Now, it has finally occurred to me that it is impossible. Whether it is more laughable that I should leave the arena and find myself all wasted but enjoying myself with my self-pity, OR I should just crash, burn and fall into the depths of the world, suspending by what I call the ecstasy of forgetting; frankly, I can't make up my mind. When this letter reaches you, and you have read the above lines, I hope you would have decided by now to burn the letter and forget that I have written.
Now. If you read now, then you have decided to give me another chance to violate your peace and torture with my thoughts as verbatim. I try to be honest here. Frankly, the past two weeks have been absolutely horrible. If words could describe my predicament, I would say that an infinite amount words would suffice. How could you leave me? What have I done to deserve this from you? Alas! The days grow stale, and I stink from the useless words I churn out every midnight, as if the clock refuses to stop and repeats itself, night after night. I hope you read this. Even if I know you will hate me. But where were you the past 14 days? Where were you when I needed you, a listener, a reader of my words, that I might have another chance to resurrect and breathe anew once again? You disappoint me. Alas! The nights haunt me, and I drown in my ocean of regrets. What have I done to deserve this? How slow you are to reply? Already, I expect a reply even before I post this. Must I send you a postcard to preempt the main course? I grow anxious, awaiting the result of my latest endeavour. How would you react to this letter? You must regret now. You want me back! Say you do. I know you do. That can only be the case. Oh! How I hate and love you! All the same.
But why do I even bother? I shall not send this letter. I shall keep my thoughts shut. You must never know of them. I only hurt you. I only break our trust, of what is left. Our friendship dissipates as I write. As if I am reaching that final destination as the words flow. It is like an eulogy of the death of our friendship. I cannot stop this ending. Every word I hear reminds me of you, the 7 days we had together. Alas...it ends today; which day? Should I find someone new to treasure? Teach me to move on, loneliness. When we strive and fall prey to the ventures of loneliness, we find ourselves in deserts and hallucinations. Alas...I must venture to new places and torture new people with my presence. I always think I am taking up time of somebody, each time I appear. It must be. How could anyone stand me? You did, as much as you could. You were always there, as long as you could.
What if, all along we are in a desert? And we have always been building sandcastles and sand beaches; great towers and cathedrals of worship, without resting, without stopping; flattening some, rebuilding others; and more people join us, in unison, with a common goal that is to reach the heavens with our tall towers; perhaps we desire to speak the same language; once and for all. You are at the other side of the desert. I know. But I dare not go to you. I must remain where I am. Away from you. Even if that takes us both to opposing poles. I believe in you. You must still exist somewhere. In silence.
I miss you, my friend. teach me this silence. and I will someday come to you, without moving.
The way is always there.
Yours,
Nameless I.
Once, I imagined we could be the best of friends. Now, it has finally occurred to me that it is impossible. Whether it is more laughable that I should leave the arena and find myself all wasted but enjoying myself with my self-pity, OR I should just crash, burn and fall into the depths of the world, suspending by what I call the ecstasy of forgetting; frankly, I can't make up my mind. When this letter reaches you, and you have read the above lines, I hope you would have decided by now to burn the letter and forget that I have written.
Now. If you read now, then you have decided to give me another chance to violate your peace and torture with my thoughts as verbatim. I try to be honest here. Frankly, the past two weeks have been absolutely horrible. If words could describe my predicament, I would say that an infinite amount words would suffice. How could you leave me? What have I done to deserve this from you? Alas! The days grow stale, and I stink from the useless words I churn out every midnight, as if the clock refuses to stop and repeats itself, night after night. I hope you read this. Even if I know you will hate me. But where were you the past 14 days? Where were you when I needed you, a listener, a reader of my words, that I might have another chance to resurrect and breathe anew once again? You disappoint me. Alas! The nights haunt me, and I drown in my ocean of regrets. What have I done to deserve this? How slow you are to reply? Already, I expect a reply even before I post this. Must I send you a postcard to preempt the main course? I grow anxious, awaiting the result of my latest endeavour. How would you react to this letter? You must regret now. You want me back! Say you do. I know you do. That can only be the case. Oh! How I hate and love you! All the same.
But why do I even bother? I shall not send this letter. I shall keep my thoughts shut. You must never know of them. I only hurt you. I only break our trust, of what is left. Our friendship dissipates as I write. As if I am reaching that final destination as the words flow. It is like an eulogy of the death of our friendship. I cannot stop this ending. Every word I hear reminds me of you, the 7 days we had together. Alas...it ends today; which day? Should I find someone new to treasure? Teach me to move on, loneliness. When we strive and fall prey to the ventures of loneliness, we find ourselves in deserts and hallucinations. Alas...I must venture to new places and torture new people with my presence. I always think I am taking up time of somebody, each time I appear. It must be. How could anyone stand me? You did, as much as you could. You were always there, as long as you could.
What if, all along we are in a desert? And we have always been building sandcastles and sand beaches; great towers and cathedrals of worship, without resting, without stopping; flattening some, rebuilding others; and more people join us, in unison, with a common goal that is to reach the heavens with our tall towers; perhaps we desire to speak the same language; once and for all. You are at the other side of the desert. I know. But I dare not go to you. I must remain where I am. Away from you. Even if that takes us both to opposing poles. I believe in you. You must still exist somewhere. In silence.
I miss you, my friend. teach me this silence. and I will someday come to you, without moving.
The way is always there.
Yours,
Nameless I.
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