Letters

Prologue: His POV

And there she is, standing in front of me, smiling at the camera with a huge smile plastered on her face. Nothing seems to have changed with her but still... I can't help but feel something is off. It's been a while since I've seen her. Wait, let me ran through that again. I have never personally met her although she claims she has seen me multiple times; I only know her through her letters, lots and lots of letters.

I don't exactly remember her first letter, and I wouldn't have realized about it at all if she hadn't sent me a bunch of letters in bulk. I remember being surprised that there's a bulk of letters for me. I mean I do receive letters everyday but not as massive. I felt happy at first then I realized everything was in English. And though I wanted to read through all those letters, I just thought I have other businesses I needed to finish. And besides, I can read them later... when I have my free time. So I pushed all those letter in the corner of my room, almost forgotten.

Every once in a while, I get a bulk of letters; but like I always do - I tossed them aside. It's not that I don't appreciate them; it's just that I have no time to read them yet. This sounds like a lame excuse, but it's all I can say to defend myself.

Anyway, I've almost forgotten the letters until one day; I decided to clean up my room. I was bored and I've got nothing better to do, finally. Plus, I don't want my mom to nag at me again when she visits. So I cleaned my room, and I encountered the piles of letters I haven't read. I decided it's time that I read these letters now.

Most of them are short and concise letters. I felt happy when I read them. I mean when people say you've made a huge and good impact on them, who wouldn't feel thankful and inspired when people compliment you and appreciate you? If you were me, won't your heart flutter as well?

Every now and then, I'd open a letter with 2 to 3 pages. Most of them from the same person, from Her; but back then I didn't really take too much notice of her letters. I have mixed up all the letters I have received so her letters were not in order. I decided to just read these letters at a later date and just sort them by date and writer. I continued to read the shorter ones for the rest of the day; forgetting to even do what I originally planned - clean my room.

Days later, I found myself curious at the bunch of long letters still waiting to be read. Once again, I realized there were a lot of letters from the same writer. I've previously sorted it out by date and writer and now it's easier to read them by order. One by one, I read her letters. The first ones were just like most fan letters – she told me how she appreciates me and how she enjoys my music. She told me how each day she was reminded of me, even with simplest things. I almost cringed and yet I couldn't deny that a smile crept up on my face. It was s sweet; she's sweet.

I decided to take my time reading her letters. The reason? I'm not sure; I just wanted to take my sweet time getting to know her. I remember smiling to myself because of her letters. I'm not dating anyone as of the moment, but her letters made me feel like I am dating one. Every day, I anticipated reading her letters.

Then slowly, little by little, she will tell me something about herself. I got a little engrossed with her letters that I did not realize the change. When I realized it, it was too late. It felt like I was reading a diary I should have not been reading even when it was written for me. It was too personal; she was just pouring herself out even though she never failed to tell me how she came to overcome the day and the struggle with just remembering me or listening to our songs.

Then it stopped. Her letters just stopped. She wrote in her letter how she felt like a bother pouring her heart out to someone as unreachable as me. there was a huge gap with the dates. I wanted to tell her I am here, but I really couldn't say that. The letter dated way back, and I wasn't there. Then she wrote:

"But it's not your fault. I don't blame you for your indifference. I mean, who am I anyway? I'm just a drop in your ocean of blue. But still, I want to thank you. Because despite everything dark and gloomy, you manage to cheer me up even for just a little. I don't think you have any idea how you shine and give me hope when my thoughts are filled with helplessness. Your soothing voice and relatable lyrics makes me feel warm and at ease. Your music really defied our differences in culture and language, just like how music always does. I think your music is enough reply. I don't and won't dare ask for more."

That was her last letter.

I remember back then I anticipated for a bunch of letters to arrive. I said to myself that this time, I will properly respond, although I have no idea how I will do that.

But no letter came.

I kept wondering what happened to her. Did she give up? Did she stop being my fan?

But then today, I saw someone familiar although it's a face I've only seen in pictures.

Today, here in this activity, months after I read her last letter (a year and few months after she wrote it), she showed up smiling as if nothing happened.

Maybe nothing happened.

Maybe it's just me.

Then I remember in one of her letters she wrote:

"Don't worry, someday, you wouldn't be receiving these nonsensical letters anymore. By then I would be busy doing my life, but for now bear with me as I try to enjoy what comes in my life. Let's let life pass naturally."

And I wondered, as I gazed to the woman smiling at the camera, Is that time finally nearing?

Then why is she here?