Dear Friend,
I have so much to tell you. I feel the words tickling the insides of my lungs, the symbols pile up, I sneeze, and they flock into a clumsy-looking snow sculpture (sorry for the unsettling image). I then begin to introduce those words to the world, to you, syllable by syllable. Like little children, they explore the emptiness of paper, and soon all the universal truths blur as I search for explanations of time and space. Where are we? What are we doing?
Using emotions as my ink I tried putting into words the unspeakable thoughts that torment my mind until written. Most of these writings were born from loneliness. You don't have to read them, my Friend, but if perhaps you feel just as tormented... these letters are here, waiting to be seen.
Love,
- Your Friend
Life is as intense as you want it to be. People in it will bring either tremendous joy or an unbearable pain. She could heal in revenge, hell being her home. But healing through words is the only way of keeping her sanity. Covering the shades of black and white with a thin gray line has never helped anyone before, but painting all those hurtful moments in colors had made the world a better place to live in: resentments under a rug of a smile. Just like a [kodachrome], colorful and vivid in an era filled with sadness.
*Mostly fictional with some bases on past, real situations. If there's a situation described here that resembles with someone's else's experiences, it is not intentional at all.
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