Letters to Life: Letters written to a loved life

4

dear life,
as i lie on the edge of night, when like the wind, indecisive of its direction, the moon sets slowly, unsure of its phase, looking for confirmation of its sparkling reflection in my eyes and illuminates the inky loneliness around me, i cannot help but wonder about my past mutations. i reprimand myself, sweetly, for giving in to the delusion of things always being wrong when they are not.

an active hope assures me that the dreams that were burning were not but a dormant frost, that the changes that i had labeled 'defeats' were victories.

it is such a relief to finally experience the feeling of things falling back together after having seen them falling apart, one piece after another. it is such a relief to realize that all the unfathomable, painful pieces were indeed interconnected in constellations of time.

such an irony it is that everything makes sense long before and long after the damage is caused, that everything is peaceful just before the storm and calm right after the war.

i cannot help but wonder how i ignored all the tiny things that hinted your presence, how i missed the touch of you being involved in each moment of mine, never speaking a word, only watching it silently from a corner.

you were there, all this time, even when i was not. so i take this moment here to apologize for ever doubting your presence and to thank you for blowing the daily doses of breaths in my lungs every night while i was still dreaming of the possibility of us.
yours.