To the one who has it all figured out

Hey,

I enjoy reading books, and currently, I have many books at home, all written in a language I do not know. There are books written in English available online, books that I have wish-listed. However, I find happiness just looking at these books, knowing I cannot read them until I learn the language. This is precisely how I prioritize and choose among things.

Am I missing the obvious? Why am I searching for hidden words when there is hardly any meaning? Why do I tend to exaggerate the smallest of things while I ignore well-stated facts? Why do I oscillate between fiction and reality when I am well aware of the bridge between them?

I want to dance. I want to scream out loud. I want to run. I want to fly. I want to breathe. My hands are tied, my legs are numb, and not a word comes out of my mouth while I wait to bare my soul. All it takes is just a word, but you do not know the struggle that lies behind it.

It all seems simple yet complicated. I am constantly revisiting the past and continuously being anxious about the future. Amidst all this, I forget the present, the only reality that matters. I ask myself if this is what I want or what it is that I want. I seek answers, yet I see no solutions.

Do you have it all figured out? How does it feel not to worry about uncertainties? Is it as simple as saying, ‘Don’t be anxious about the future, just relax’? People often advise taking risks, but I find myself torn between practicality and romanticizing life. I yearn for days when I don’t merely live vicariously but make my dreams a reality. Does a perfect balance even exist? I’m not fragile, but I can break too. I’m not running away; I fulfill my responsibilities by doing chores and paying my bills. I’m not oblivious, and what I need isn’t a reality check. What I long for is a smile, a pat on the back, and reassurance that I’m not the only one, that I am not alone.

Lost & yearning,
A tired soul

To the girl who loves writing letters

Hey,

I know you have always loved letters, especially hand-written ones. Well, I agree; they are indeed unique. You may not have received many of them, but I know you still cherish the ones that you received. To me, they symbolize effort, patience, love, and warmth. More than the content, this is what makes them close to my heart.

My journey with letters started when I was around 3, just a toddler. Whenever my mom wrote letters to my grandparents, I told her that I too wanted to write. Well, I could hardly pronounce words or speak proficiently. The funny part is that she used to let me write. Back then, it used to be inland letters, a sheet of paper of fixed dimensions where you write the address on one side, and on the other, you write the content. So, at the end of each letter, my mom left a small space for me to add my writing. But I did not know how to write; still, I had too many stories to tell my grandparents. I guess nothing could stop a determined toddler. Each sentence used to be a circle; let’s call it my script. By the time I finished writing, the bottom part of the inland letter would be full of circles. My mom used to post them, and I have no idea what my grandparents could understand.

Recently, I came across one of those letters; yes, they still had it. I was happy to see those circles because I could imagine the excitement of 3-year-old me. I could sense the warmth and love I had felt while writing those letters—well, circles. It’s been years since I wrote a letter. It’s all about emails and chats now, and why not? They are convenient. But recently, I saw an Instagram profile that encouraged sending handwritten letters, and it reminded me of how much I love them. I cannot send out letters now, so I thought of writing them here. So this will be a series of letters addressed to those individuals I believe should receive them. It’s also a way for me to connect with myself.

Love & warmth,

The nostalgic self