The Words I Never Said // A Collection of Essays

Letter #6 // Moving to a different plain

In this letter, a city I'm living in and love with all my heart played a major role. However, I'm not very keen on revealing my location here, so I'll refer to the place as [city].

My dear Friend,

Only when I dedicate to you my texts do I set free some streams of words. This specific intimacy eases the stuffy, heavy air I call creative inspiration. But in this letter, I have lots to tell you. Just all the things that have been brewing in my brain, sharply stroking the gyri in my cortex, and knocking onto my skull. 

Sometimes I think I'm just a dry sponge that unselectively absorbs every molecule emerging in its path. Although lately, I've been seeing myself more as a hot spring, boiling more and more intensely, and spitting out more and more water as the temperature of the environment rises. With my life making these abrupt but long-awaited and desired turns, I realize I've been seething like mad, and sometimes containing myself is difficult. Then I attempt to make myself cry and release the pent-up tension, just like geysers shoot upwards, unable to withstand the pressure and high temperatures anymore. That cycle of tension and liberation, fortunately, isn't painful, it's filled with gratitude, although sometimes an extreme surge of pleasant emotions can be hard to bear with as well.

Yesterday I visited my future place of living, the first place that will officially and for a long time play the role of my home. I had a taste of the city spirit and the flavor of countless various paths and opportunities completely messed with my head. It was as if I finally dared to look up, peek through the door of the cage, and try to grasp the sense of freedom. No, I've never experienced that emotion so purely and clearly before. And those minor uncertainties that created some fuss last evening peacefully sorted themselves out in the morning. 

[City], oh, my [city]... I feel like reading novels and writing poems about it. Action, culture, buildings, people, feeling like no matter how much you'd wander around in its streets, you'd never get to know it one hundred percent. I realize, for now I know very little of that enchanting aura and there's so much for me to discover and understand. After an entire childhood of reading dozens of fantasy novels with their unique worlds, dreaming of traveling there, traveling "somewhere", of living in a city that corresponds to the peculiar world of that one specific book, this present moment surpasses everything I ever imagined.

I wonder, could this be the place we'll run into each other? You know, I write this every time, but at this moment I am more ready than ever for our encounter. We wouldn't have to do anything, we could just roam the streets and watch the people, the sidewalk, the sky, the roofs. We could pass through all four seasons in that city together. And that's still such a tiny part of what we could do. I look forward to those times.

It's strange how swiftly and with ease one can let go of any relics of their past. I can almost physically sense the novelty of this current space and time. The transition is done. I'm on the other side. Echoes of the past, although intelligible, are husky and barely significant. It's like I just left a loud party and I still feel the sidewalk vibrating from the music, its low beats, but it won't pique my interest anymore because I'm gravitating towards the opposite side, and the distance keeps growing...

This may be not my longest letter, but I must end it here. There's lots of work to do: daydreaming, fantasizing, then taking care of any formalities in the physical plain. Some dots on i's are still missing, but the text is clear and legible.

Expect more of my letters for sure.

— Your Friend

(July 28th, 2021)