Dear future me,
The clock by my bed says 2:48am. A wave of loneliness threatens to drown me. I desperately try to grasp on to a rock. A recent happy memory perhaps. I feel my lungs filling with visions of the past. I'm choking on my own breath but not a single sob escapes my mouth tonight. I'm too exhausted to grant myself the luxury of tears. The broken pieces of my heart that I had so cautiously put back together in a rather failed attempt to reverse it back to its unsullied state now fall apart again with a disastrous chaos only to shatter into further smaller bits. I can't help but be appalled that such devastating a pain can be so eerily silent; after all even the snap of a frail flower stem does produce its own alarming sound. I can feel the brokenness in my soul. A persistent, unwavering ache. I dive deeper into my mind trying recklessly to fish out a memory that might bring me some comfort in this cold, empty night. But memories that used to bring me smiles before have started to greet me with a distasteful mockery these days. In a couple of hours the Sun would be here lighting up yet another day. I'd need to plaster yet another smile on this face of mine that stares blankly at me from the mirror. They like to see me smile. I prefer them to see me smile. I somehow need to drag myself through the day before I can safely collapse behind this closed door without anyone bothering me for the remaining dark hours. I've been tired for so long now that I think it'd be really awkward not to feel tired like I wouldn't know what to do with the newfound energy. I stare at the sky. It's an empty stretch of black tonight. I take a long drag on the last remaining of my cigarette; it's the only burning light that interrupts the cold darkness of the night. I quite savour the burn in my lungs before letting the smoke out with a few perfect smoke rings. And as I watch the smoke vanish into the thin summer breeze, I wish I could vanish into the night.
Love,
Lydia.
*Special thanks to Anahita Dev Choudhury*
YOU ARE READING
Letters to Future me
Teen FictionFrom Hogwarts' letters to the ones we write to our pen pals.Letters had been the cry of the helpless and the saviour of the broken.One word.These words can either kill you or can pick up the bricks and create a fort all around you. Memories,pa...
