Dear Reader,
I have always loved letters but in my 22 years and 11 months of existence, I have only received two letters and written one. When I was younger, I’d write long letters on the back of my notebooks namely to anybody I knew back home, then I’d carefully re-write them, tuck them into an envelope and keep them between the pages of my school textbook. The next day I’d open the letter and read them again, find a fault or two, and attempt to re-write it, somehow I was never satisfied with what I wrote, there was always a line I thought was not written well, a word that had been misspelled, sometimes it always seemed too personal other times very formal, and between all that proof-reading of letters, they never got sent. It might amuse you to know that I had even written to Dr.A.P.J Abdul Kalam, but a piece of paper only becomes a letter, if it gets sent, sadly mine just remained a draft.
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The reason I am writing this in the form of a letter is because I want to write about so many things, about religion, about god, about love, about the time I went to the temple and saw two Burqa clad women performing pooja, about writing, about me, but a tiny part is scared about being judged for what I write, a tiny part of me is ashamed of what I write, a tiny part of me doesn’t want you to read this, but the need to write just doesn’t go away, no matter how much I procrastinate, and try to shut my brain. I do find myself towards the end of the month, with a head heavy of unwritten topics. Some days I just want to write them all down in a paper and throw them in the sea, watch it all sail away, knowing that even if someone finds it and reads it, they’ll never know who wrote it.
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What do you call an emotion that is a combination of anxiety, sorrow, pain and confusion? You know that feeling you have as though you’ve just swallowed a ball of failure? Dear reader, in my less than one quarter of a lifetime I’ve come to realize that people are inherently not happy, joy isn’t an everyday emotion. However, the above mentioned amalgamation seems common every day, why is it that peace is so difficult to find, but sorrow can just walk in? A lot of our lives are turning out to be like the rough drafts of my letters, they seem perfect on one day, on the other it all just gets rewritten or thrown away.
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As years go by, our existence on this planet should make sense, but with every passing day the task seems more daunting. I wish all of us got the colorful lives we dreamt of, the love we wished for and the happy in-between’s rather than the cliched ending. My questions may not have answers, maybe that letter was never meant to be read and replied back to, but this letter is just a tiny reminder, what you’re going through now, someone else is too, somewhere maybe close or far, be that happiness or sorrow, there’s always more than one person laughing or crying at the same time in this world. So start writing your life letters, and who knows someday you might even receive one.
Your’s
Sandra
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Sandra is a student, an amateur writer, reader, dreamer and the list goes on and on. She loves long walks on the beach and waking up to a wonderful breakfast, visiting new places and meeting new people. In short she likes every thing in life that is not black and white. Admires people who lead their life differently,who look beyond the obvious and seek to live their life according to their convictions, at their own pace and in their own time. She blogs at http://www.fortheperfectionistinme.blogspot.in