Someone Found Me

Dear you,

More and more, I realise I have so much difficulty expressing myself. And I have been told this once; I was so relieved when that person told me "you do not know how to express yourself much." I was so relieved that someone noticed and understood this.

So I hope you know me writing to you every day is a huge difficulty for me. But I won't stop.

Yours faithfully and sincerely,
N.

Literature and Current States

Dear you,

How do I write you a personal letter without sounding personal?

I have been doing things lately to make myself feel 1) less alone, and 2) more productive. I am slowly getting back to reading. Yesterday I read 50 pages of a 600-page book that I am excited about (somehow). I keep staring at my shelf and ask myself (oh, look, that rhymed!) when will I ever read all these books? And because I have not been into novels lately, my shelf remains untouched and unchanged. I have always believed that your gate into reading is just the beginning of a journey into writing too. So, if by getting back to reading it means I will also get back to writing (other than to you) I am down for it!

----

Today I had a long call with one of the very close people to my heart, someone I have never met, just like you, but yet let them bear all my secrets. I told her I am so scared that everything I do is just a phase after a phase and before another phase, and that whatever change I make, it will only be temporary, a current state of mind that will go loose with time. When I asked a friend he told me that this usually happens when you are not being completely honest and deep about your intentions. He may be right, but I also remember that my intentions are usually not short-term ones.

I fear that everything I do is not part of me, that it will sooner or later disappear or get lost somewhere in the process, which will never be complete. I fear that my states of mind are all ashes and dust somewhere in the future.

Would you jump to the future if you had the choice? I wouldn't. Because it may show me an unpleasant life, like me having to live years to wait for you to come.

Come.

Yours faithfully and sincerely,

N.

Dig Deep Right

Dear you,

There is a liberating feeling when you talk about the things that have been burdening you for so, so much time, with the right people. Talking about things you find hard to dig deep into can be devastating if you tell it to the wrong people.

Yours faithfully and sincerely,
N.

Void

Dear you,

I can't seem to know what to write.

Yours faithfully and sincerely,
N.

Listen to the Heartbeats of your Soul

Dear you,

I do not know what to write you. I guess I will just say "I am here," listening to the heartbeats interrupting my thoughts every time I try to keep one.

Yours faithfully and sincerely,
N.

I Fear Losing Control, You?

Dear you,

I am so sorry I have not been writing to you for the past three or four days; I have been somehow busy and somehow down. I am back to work these days with a tight deadline, as usual. But I thought of you every day. I thought of writing to you but it would be often too late for you to read my letters. So I spared you some pain for a few days.

I have been diagnosed with anxiety, and even though I already knew that and I was not really surprised, I was somehow appalled by the solution offered to me to get over it and cure it for good. After all, every one is afraid of getting out of their comfort zone with at least one thing, right?

I was told to give it a month of attempts, during which I should break this fear loose and do my best not to let it break me.

You see, I have only told one person about this aside from you. So, please keep this between us for now; I do not know how to talk to even myself about jt. But it should be over soon right?

Pray for me. I will be back to writing to you every day. I just need to give my hands and mental state some time.

I love you. Remember that. Every day. Until I come back.

Yours faithfully and sincerely,

N.

Attempted Murder

Dear you,

How many times do you attempt to kill the guilt inside of you and be a selfish bastard? I can't count mine.

Yours faithfully and sincerely,

N.

Wording Pain

Dear you,

My hands are in some unbearable pain today. There are also bruises in my palm after some writing today (I only wrote one page, how sad). I am only saying this to excuse myself from writing a long letter, if you allow me.

So, how can people talk about pain? I mean psychological pain. How can they talk that much about it with so many words? I do not understand. There is something about pain that I feel every time: it needs no words, only looks into our eyes and everything will be known just like that. Right?

However, for an attempt, write to me about pain; perhaps I do not really understand how these mindsets work. It is ok, I can listen. Do not worry about what to write. Just write me honestly and bluntly.

Yours faithfully and sincerely,
N.

With a Little Bit of Extraordinary

Dear you,

You know, I do not understand people who always have something to say, those who have the snappy comebacks to everything we say and everything we do. I do not understand the people who can talk about everything like they mean it, and like they really know how deep the things they talk about are. I do not think they actually do know.
I do not even understand how quickly they come up with such answers, and how confident they are. I mean, how can you be sure about anything in this life? How? How can you be sure the things happening before you right now are for real and can really be felt from the deepest depths of your soul?
I am the kind of person who usually has nothing to say, and has no comebacks nor smart answers to anything. I do not want to be someone who tries so much and so hard to be something they're not, while faking half of their life to be this.

I am okay with how ordinary life can get sometimes, with a little bit of extraordinary within. Like you.

Yours faithfully and sincerely,
N.

Drowning into Concepts of Timelessness

Dear you,

Let me tell you about a thought from my past.

I had this thought for nearly 13 years, literally half of my life. It started with my wondering about where I would've been if I had not ever been born, in this era or in a different one for that matter. The thought would usually go backwards from where I stand at that moment to birth and then to when I was still a faceless fetus. And then nothing. I do not know how my imagination still survived up until today and how my visualisation is still the same after 13 years, but they both remain the same. I see pitch-black images, and feel infinite space, with no concept of time. I get lost, and try to come back, but I do not, because once you dive into such thoughts it is hard to come back to real life, after seeing infinity and timelessness.
I would just wonder why I was created, and why wasn't I just thrown into that infinity to enjoy the absence of time and space concepts, to enjoy the nothingness. But there would always be light at that dream, or thought. There would always be light somewhere in the sky, like a galaxy from afar or even a yellowish moon. Oh, I did see yellowish moons and stars in there, before someone awoke me into real life.

That thought would haunt me, and it would make me who I am now, with so many whys and so many hows, as well as so many plurals, like questions and answers and frustrations and disappointments. I would come back to reality but go back there every once in a while, because I guess it's safe to imagine nothingness after, say, a day or a week or a month o a year of distractions and unanswered questions and unsolved puzzles.

I drown, into the vacuum, into helplessness, and into pitch-black images, every time push comes to shove.
But I hope you understand that this is how I survive, because everyone's life jackets are not the same, and you could be mine one day.

Yours faithfully and sincerely,
N.

Questionable Answers and Answerable Questions

Dear you,

Often does it become so hard to bear and keep so many questions in mind, questions that have no answers, or whose answers are not meant  to ever be shown. often do we ask questions at the wrong times and still expect answers, even answers we do not truly want to hear. And often do we get answers when no questions have even been asked, so we ignore them as if they didn't exist, and regret it later.
Often do we meet the wrong people at the right times, and the right people at the wrong times, and wonder when will both synchronise and make life just a little bit easier on us. Or, maybe this is not how it's supposed to be; easy. Often do we also fall for those who do not deserve us, or whom we do not deserve, and wonder and cry why it did not work, led my the sentimentality and fragility of our hearts, and yet we believe things will go back to normal. But they never do, because once you have fallen in love, you are never, ever, complete again.
Often do we say goodbyes to people we meet every day, and say nothing to people whom we are about to lose the next moment, by means of death or human relations. And we dwell and linger in these feelings for some time before we forget, or make ourselves forget, because life does not wait for grief to be over.
Often do we live while knowing we're dead inside, and ignore life in hopes of death, and eternal exhilaration, or not. Often do we believe in things we deep down inside know nothing about, but because we have to believe; we have to believe in things that may not be visible to the naked eye, or to the sole mind. We believe because in life believing in something helps us survive. We believe because there is no other way to live than to cling to the hopes and strings of something more, some ulterior motive of it all.

We believe because we are, and I believe because you are here. I believe you are here. I do.

Yours faithfully and sincerely,
N.

Shooting Stars and Darker Days

Dear you,

There are days when I do not know what exactly to write you, but I still have intentions to write because I would never stop. There are days when I do not know why I do anything in this life, and days when I just do not think it deep enough. There are moments in which I stare at walls, ceilings, or vacuum and ask myself a minute later: what was I really thinking about? And it turns out to be nothing. Sometimes it feels like I just want to shut the whole world out for a few moments, instead of it shutting me out for every single day of my life. And then I try to detach just for a speck of a second before I come back. I come back slowly, but steadily, and with so much blurriness and fogginess until I do my own daily reality checks, to know I am still not dreaming.

There are days in which I feel the urge to write some world-changing lines, some inspirational ideas that would come to life one day, without my own credit, but that doesn't matter, so long as it changes something. And there are other days in which I only hope to be myself and not change anything, and that would be enough for everyone around me. In a voraciously fake world, sometimes that is all that people want really.

There are times when I get tired of being around people who know me, who know me really well, so let alone people who do not know me at all. I isolate myself, like a loner, except I am not (just a state, not a noun). I enjoy it for only a couple of weeks maybe, and then I come back to the boring social person that I am again. I feel like we're ghosts wearing human bodies; we struggle so much to be who we are, and yet again we never even understand who we are and why we do the things we do.
Sometimes we even see ourselves as infinitesimal beings in an infinite universe, but we have such inflated egos that we never admit this.

So talk to me about vacuum, about space, about galaxies and other worlds, parallel universes. Talk to me about shooting stars, comets, meteors, and orbits. Talk to me about infinity, so we never run out of words, ever.

Yours faithfully and sincerely,
N.

Words of Derealisation and Promises

Dear you,

A promise has to be kept, especially if it was to you.

Last night I made you a promise to tell you about an insane idea in my head, and here I am.
I believe that the safest way for us to live is to actually conquer our minds with the craziest and most insane ideas ever, even if they were just abstract ideas that would never make it to reality, and that would only stay there for a little while to be replaced then by another crazier thought.
So, I'll tell you about the most recent insane idea I had in mind. I dream of lucid dreaming and derealisation, because the former lets me believe I have taken control over my world, and the latter makes me lose control over the world. However, what they both have in common is liberation; they're both liberating feelings, whether associated with feelings of power or feelings of powerlessness and surrealism. I think of derealising inside a lucid dream, and staying there for some time, willingly and voluntarily, so I can wake up when the time is right, and get a glimpse of surrealism just before I come back to reality.
I dream of taking control and losing control at the same exact moment until it deems me numb, until I can no longer feel which is a dream and which is reality, because, after all, that is how I feel every single day anyway.
And sometimes I dream of undreaming, I daydream of undreaming, of that vacuum in my brain when my whole body is semi-dead, so that, for only once, I can really know how it feels to be as close to death as possible. So that, in life, I have experienced death, or an NDE - near death experience.

And then when all these insane ideas go to their own demise, I dream of you, an ordinary yet insanely extraordinary thought in my head, and imagine you exist in this world, in my real world, where I'd be talking to you, telling you all these stories and examining how your eyes look at me, how crazy they see me. But once again, if it wasn't for my insanity and imagination you would've been a totally different person in a totally different place now, wouldn't you?

I love you, is an extraordinarily insane idea in an insanely ordinary world. And that's the last bit of insanity in me for the night.

Yours faithfully and sincerely,
N.

Mind-Blowing Vs Soul-Killing Ideas

Dear you,

How amazing is it to listen to someone you love talk for hours without getting the slightest feelings of boredom? It's because of their insane ideas. Because the sanity and mediocrity of ideas in our world have become so goddamn soul-killing that no one wants to live anymore.

Write me an insane idea, and I'll tell you one in tomorrow's letter to you. Promise.

Yours faithfully and sincerely,
N.

Injuries inside out

Dear you,

I feel the need to apologise for bringing old relationships in the previous letter I sent you. It is because I am merely over my past, and I have already been putting too much pressure on you with all my stories. So I am sorry. However, for a minute I want you to imagine how sometimes we all need attention, like me sending you all these letters is attention seeking, so when someone gives you that, it's hard to turn a blind eye.

Today I will tell you something that should make this letter very brief. I have a hand injury that prevents me from writing too much, and the pain increases whenever I write more than 100 words. Can you imagine this? I was first told I had neuritis, but then I knew it was just an injury that should go away with time and care. I am telling you this because, like everything else, I want you to know. I want you also to know that I will never stop writing to you even if my hands turned numb and were burning with pain. I want you to know that I am willing to write you these letters until you notice me in that crowd you walk into every single day. I want you to know that I know you will be there someday, and that I will be there for you one day.

I want you to know me. And I want to know you. But first let me get these confessions over with, and you will read letters you will never again read in your life. And they will be yours and to you.

Yours faithfully and sincerely,
N.

With Love

Dear you,

I am sorry I haven't written any letters in the past few days; it's just that I had two big weddings coming and I had to help the family and friends. Yes, a wedding; you read this correct. I know you probably think by now that I am such a miserable lady whose career goals in life is just to whine up for a living, right? But I'll give you the benefit of doubt and assume you didn't.
It was a hectic week, and yet I spent a night over at my cousin's a day before the wedding. I was so tired that I felt like I was hung over or something in the morning. Anyways.

I don't know what to write you, but I'll try. I have a friend, who may be more than a friend at times. We have this relationship where we sometimes just cut all ties loose, maybe for two months, and then go back to those long, long phone calls to talk about almost anything and everything. I don't get us, and I pray to God I remain like this and not think it something of any seriousness, because most of the time I am so fragile when it comes to him.
I don't know why I'm telling you this, you being the carrier and keeper of my letters, to you, but I guess I want more than letters to you; perhaps honesty. I won't deny that I have never ceased to like the guy, but I also won't deny that getting attached to people has never made me happier, at least people other than you.

But they say that the more you talk about someone you like, the more you'll get attached and find it harder to let go of the idea itself. So I promise you this is the first and last time I am talking about him. Just so you know, and for the sake of honesty. And for the sake of plain and naked honesty, this is Mohammed Donia we're talking about. Now let's end this here forever.

There is a reason why some feelings are better left inside, because they remain beautiful there.

Yours faithfully and sincerely,
N.

Dissociating realities away

Dear you,

I have been escaping reality and hard work way too much than normal recently, not to mention the letters I write you, which are also a coping mechanism through escape, or the other way round, not sure really.

I have been better, in terms of dealing with pain or accepting it. It just feels like I am no longer accepting it in the first place. I don't cry; I only dossociate from reality, or detach, willingly and voluntarily. I realise it's not the right thing to do when faced with too many realities, but it's just too much.

However, let me mention something a bit normal tonight for a change of tone; I had a good day today. There is this slight feeling that I want to read again like before, or that I at least want to take my mind off life using a sane and wise method or hobby. And I really need to stop making my hand injury an excuse for all this laziness, right? Oh, by the way, did I even tell you before about the injury? If I didn't then I am sorry; sometimes you just seem to be an inseparable part of my life or that you live inside of me, that way I don't have to tell you about everything per se, because you're already part of it.

But remember; I still wait for you. I am still waiting for you and I have faith in you more than anyone in this world. And no matter how much it takes or how many years it will take me to finally find you, or for you to find me, I will be ready to be head over heels for you, because, after all, why am I writing all of this?

Yours faithfully and sincerely,

N.

To You

Dear you,

I was thinking all day today about you; how I am so ungrateful to your presence in my life, and how I only let it out on you when I am so disappointed, down, or angry. So, this letter is dedicated to you and only you, to thank you, for being there for me, for reading all these sad and lonely words with so much patience and faith. I want you to know that I am happy with you in my life.

Just until you come. Please, come.

I love you.

Yours faithfully and sincerely,
N.

Until You Are My Hero

Dear you,

I am sorry I left you a sad and abrupt letter last time; it's just that sometimes life is hard enough, and words are so devoid of meaning. So you just write as little and as meaningful a sentence as possible, hoping for no judgments, no filler words, nor unnecessary consolations. You just need silence, a pure and deep silence with an "I understand" and nothing more.

I am sorry because I never told you before how much getting personal about a terrible dad can be very tough and challenging. This is why most of those who go through the same shit I have rarely speak about it, because who the hell will ever understand something they've never been through. And while girls are all about "my dad is my hero" pictures all over media, i just sit there and wait for this shit to be over so I can live normally accepting the fact that I will never have a hero dad, or even a dad I never wish to bid farewell to.

I am sorry if this is getting too personal even for you. This is why I am taking things very slowly, so that by the time you really know me you will have grasped everything about my life without rushing. So that everything will be said at the right times. And so that, when you come to me for good I will tell you you are my hero, my first hero, and I want no other heroes but you in my story, in my life.

I love you, until you are my hero; I will give myself to you.

Yours faithfully and sincerely,

N.

Full Truth

Dear you,

I have an impossible-to-like dad.

I am sorry.


Yours faithfully and sincerely,
N.