Letters

Part 1- Letter to my (ex) best friend

"It starts with fewer first messages. Fewer calls. Missed calls. Messages after missed calls. No messages after missed calls. Few replies to 15 messages. Few sentences to 15 messages. Few words to 15 messages. One word replies. "Okay." "Yeah." "I'm sorry." the apology is not a follow up for a mistake. It's an apology for just being you.

It starts with fewer questions asking you how your day was. Fewer replies explaining how your day was. Simple "haha" as a reply to most of what the other person has to say. Bad jokes when you feel you're letting your emotions show. "ARRE Yaar joke yaar mazze Yaar" when you feel they're taking your emotions seriously.

It starts with inhibitions when it comes to double texting. It starts with inhibitions when it comes to texting in general. It starts with avoiding their phone, because why? Why must they hear how you sound, you're not that important anyway.

It starts with doubts and hesitations. Wanting to say their name but almost saying it. Wanting to reply but choosing not to. Wanting to speak about your day but, it just doesn't feel so important anyway.

Wanting to embrace them but trembling and walking the other side. Wanting to call. Wanting to vent. Wanting to love.

But why? You'll be being too much.

I'll be being too much.

I know I'll be being too much. "How was your day?"

I wanted to tell you I woke up feeling the burden of gravity on my shoulders, I spent the day sleepwalking and came back to collapse within myself. "My day was good. How was yours?"

"Oh. Great. Nice."

"Okay." "Okay."

"Yeah"

"Okay." I'm not distancing myself darling. I just didn't want to bother you.

Just tell me I'm not too much.

God. Just tell me I'm not too much."-on the fear of being overwhelming.

You're craving a particular kind of loneliness.

Not the kind that makes you feel that your voice doesn't matter or that your mind is nothing but a warehouse of redundant dreams and wandering emptiness.

You're craving the kind of loneliness which makes the silence seem like music. Where each part of your skin is waltzing to a symphony only you can decipher. The kind of loneliness where the only soul you can ever fully love is your own, because at the end of the day, whose soul have we ever seen anyway?

You're craving a kind of loneliness where you can just shut off and be. Just be.

Stay in the realms of solitude and not drown in a feeling of inadequacy and social inappropriateness.

A kind of lonely which makes sense to you, much like the faint voice of reason which follows you around on cold nights asking you to carry on. To move forward.

A kind of lonely when you're all by yourself but you're still warm.

That's the kind of lonely I aspire to be.

That's the kind of lonely I am.

- on making peace with myself

//Hello.

I apologize for my ignorance and my apathetic attitude. I apologize for messy details and hidden truths. I apologize for half smiles and silent blushes.

I always thought that "face heating up" was a phrase until I realized that certain words do actually very much cause this physical effect and that this isn't just poetic language.

I have been conditioned to thinking in a particular way, assessing people a particular way and coming across the same kind of people.

The same faces concealing disappointments. Again. Again. Again.

I've been used to thinking that in a world of 7.2 billion, every human has the same face. Including myself.

I apologize that I considered you no different. Just like the rest of them. I'm sorry for ever considering you ordinary.

You're magic. Something so tumultuous and full of hope and happiness that this weary body can't handle it. Your whispers are too loud for my spine to not shiver.

Your words too strong. Your promises too full of courage. I apologize for mistaking you for the rest.

You come with the power to heal but I've already accepted who I am. I don't want to change. I don't want to wait. I want to carry forward.

I don't want to explore.

And you're a tourist.

Absolutely nothing can prepare me for the privilege of knowing someone like you.

For someone who invests so much of her time in words, you make me want to curl you in your arms and say nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Because nothing can describe who you are and what you do to me anyway.

Absolutely no one makes me stronger than you do.

You were made for stronger hearts and truer promises. I'm going to take a step back.

You can only rise higher and I'm already burdened with gravity.

I want you to soar.

Happy 18th Birthday. -letters I never sent to my best friend //