My dearest K.

12.

29 April 2015

My dearest K.,

Firstly, please let the sky know that that infuriating gold-black smile it has on its face doesn't scare me... it is threatening us with lightning and thunder like I even cared...and to prove to him my point, I will write this letter outside. Please, just don't freak out like my mum and dad who are screaming to me to get inside behind the balcony door (I locked them of course, otherwise how could I come here). Is there a meaning in protecting myself like these ordinary people? I already know my expiry date (yeah, God must have loved me too much to tell it beforehand). Is it really that important if this lightning strikes my head some days before my expiry date? It could turn out to be a blessing in fact: my ashes could fly directly to you and I wouldn't be tortured by the war that has started between my eyes and my heart (because sometimes my eyes get jealous of my heart...you always remain close to my heart and far from my eyes). Is it worth all this care and medication and fight and hopeless hopes when I am like a balloon full of feelings and life in a world full of thorns?

People say it's inhuman to bless where others curse... but who said I am normal? Bless this storm...this lightning that flashed in front of my eyes...this thunder... God, please send something to take me up there or don't punish me to live like a dead person. You know death isn't the worst loss... the real loss is what dies inside you when you are still alive. And my hope is dying before me, baby... it took a ticket straight to hell and there it sits silently burning inside of this storm. But the most dreadful thing is that it is right: how can hope live when everything good dies here, even the stars?

You had asked me: "How replaceable are you?" If you are asking me, I don't know... I wanted to be that girl who would get always excited by the weird colors of the sky, that simplicity lover kind of girl, the kind of girl who came in this world to make a change and be remembered for the miracles she did to the humankind... the kind of girl whose death would be a great loss for the world... but the truth is that these are just words. A simple woman is sincere. She tells what she feels, doesn't play with what others trust her and is not subservient. A change maker woman is more than just a sick, near-to-death girl...more than a girl who thought to change the world with her books. So if it were for me, I am just a soldier, who was always willing to be the leader of its own army but died in the field battle. And at the end of the day, you can easily replace that with another soldier, can't you?

But if I were to answer for you, you are beyond every doubt irreplaceable, because you are beautiful. Not because of your pretty face (which you sure have), but because a chaos like me stirs around you and you choose to love me the same. You take a tragedy like me and turn into gold. You create a rainbow when I get bored with the blue sky so that I can choose a different color. You give those silent hugs that mean a thousand words to an unhappy heart. And that's what makes you goddamn beautiful and undoubtedly irreplaceable.

Forever yours,

D.