Letter to a Stranger #18 Too good for me

Dear you who is miles apart,

I have always liked travelling. It is an essence of me much like my blood and bones. I’ve never seen it as a means of escape and always as something I’m heading towards insteas of away from. 

After meeting you though, I’m not so sure anymore. The trip came at a right time. I think i needed this break, away from you, alone with my thoughts. And so instead of heading towards something, it feels as if I’m running away from you. Travelling ceased to be what got my heart racing and instead turned into someone I choose to run off the the path life is taking me towards. Well I’m a stubborn soul and a rebel. I don’t go on gently the good night. I thrash and moan and fight.  But there’s also an easy way of doing things. So I run away. The road is home to wanderer souls like myself. I detest anything long-term because life is short and full of wonderful opportunities and all that is too great to be passed up for the mere reason of something as small and inessential as stability. I like passing through things, people’s lives and places, not really making any my home but getting to live in the sanctuary of all of it. 

You are what my heart heads towards to lay down and gently rest after an exerting day where my head handles all the hassle. I lay my head on your shoulder and you pull my hair hard pulling me inside the dreamworld that one can enter only when high. But I don’t have to roll a joint or grab a bottle. I just have to look at your half-smiling face and I see the door as bright as the disco ball in the sky. It is a swirly ride with you. I think I enjoy it too much for it to ever be good for me.

Love,

The one who never stays. 

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Letter to a Stalker #2 Thank you for your mail. 

Mr Sadist, 

Thank you for your mail. Thank you for your confessions and your urges and love (in whatever twisted way it comes in). If I was the me before I met Mr. No-labels, I’d have considered your proposals and probably tried twisting and negotiating it my way but there still would have been scope for something… Anything. But now I like myself better and like you pointed out more than once, I deserve better. And I’m nice. There’s no two ways about it. I’d still offer you my friendship but I’m also selfish and you kill my vibe. Talking to you used to be interesting. I was curious, intrigued but your personality or actually the persona you wear, not the real you. It started overshadowing that curiosity with boredom. It was so obvious avoidance of question, sexist jokes in place of awkward silence and the worst of them all, your fake self- importance. I could see through it which is why it bored me to great extent. And I can handle hatred, pain, annoyance but I can’t deal with boredom. 
When you asked me to block you with your one-shot personality, I didn’t even have to think twice. 

But then you found a way to give me a letter and fuck it, it was something cool. Back to square one, curious again. And yet it showed so loudly, your fake persona, it killed the vibe the real you was creating. So I did block you again with one second thought. And now here we are and I might have just believed your letter as honest if I didn’t think it was another one of your manipulative tricks. So here I go, giving you a huge reply. Don’t think too much on it. I don’t think about you. This was just something to do. Sorry, but not sorry. I can’t accept or offer you anything as long as you keep the charade up. Let’s go back to the basics. Truth or nothing else. Do you want to be my friend? Will you stop with the fake persona? The real question is…. can you? If so, do it like the real you. Ask me to unblock you, cause that’s what you want. Not for some reason like helping me out. And most of all, answer me this. Have you written a letter to someone else before? Don’t know if you’ll get this or you unfollowed me. But I have faith in you, stalker.

Love,
White swan angel.

Letter to a Stranger#17 My sanctuary

Dear safe place,

​Between all the letters I wrote for you, it was the first one that meant the most to me. Because it was written with no expectations, no boundaries, no follow-up on promises. Everything that followed it seems like a failed attempt to either get your attention or get my own attention back to you. 

The perfect letter will never be written. But I keep sending words out into the void hoping that one fine day, one weird sentence might jump into your bones and make you realise that there are a thousand letters written everyday in the world, most of which go unanswered. But there will be a hundred unanswered letters accounted to your name before the world ends. 

Does it make you feel something, anything at all?

A word is nothing without a face behind it and a feeling to give it some worth. 

Death.

Kindness.

Friendship.

Love.

It all exists in theory untill one day, you see a person, and then that word becomes your thought, it becomes your life. 

There’s no escaping it. I can’t unwrite a single letter that I wrote which is why it is better to have them out on display for the world to see. 

You are also out for the world to see. How easier would it be if we could escape it all and find a cabin in the woods, far away from the existence of anyone?

Among a million other faces, if we were thousand miles apart and started walking, it might take years but I think we’d find our way back to each other. 

Maybe it is the music making me feel invincible. Maybe it’s the year ending, and with it, my insecurities. 

But one thing won’t end for sure. 
My promise. 

Whether it is a new year or a new world, I’ll write you these letters. Whether we stay together or fall apart, my words will carve out your smile in a string of alphabets, everytime I pick up a pen.

When i daydream and my mind leaves my body to hide somewhere else, it’ll be beneath your arm that it’ll come to rest. My words have always been my sanctuary. Now you’re giving THEM someplace to stay. 

Please stay.

Letter for a Stranger #1 Train Diaries

To my Mirrored soul sister

Have you ever met a person and felt like you were looking at yourself? Only they are the living breathing personification of all you are along with all you wish to be.

I saw you sat next to me and I didn’t think much of it. I knew we’d strike up occasional conversation and It’ll be interesting because of the difference in our nations. 

But I heard you. You are just like me in some prospects and exactly who I’d wish to be in other. 

But we didn’t even have to talk to come to that realisation. When you and I sat face to face with each other, each of us lost in the pages of a book, just existing in that same moment lost in another world was enough for me to know the concrete truth. 

We were destined to cross paths. I’m better off living in my mundane existence knowing that my wishes COULD come true because you’re living the dream I’ve seen.

To travel the world and sometimes with the people you care about. To find the one person in life with whom you share this dream and someone who understands when you gotta go off on your own. 

It’s so wonderful to have met you because I’m even more determined to do what I wish now. 

And on top of all that, you were kind, compassionate and so nice. 

Qualities I don’t think I’ve seen many people extend towards strangers. I am the same way, did you know? Could you tell?

I just regret that we didn’t have much time together. But I hope when we cross paths again, if we ever do, it’ll be when I’m also living the life I wish I did. 

Maybe we’ll go to a music fest together, wearing similar shades, feeling the vibe. 

But it’s a huge maybe. 

What I know for sure though is that today couldn’t have gotten any better. 

My first letter to a stranger ACTUALLY found its way to the  stranger it was intended for. 

Here’s to making weird faces and ranting hard about our favourite movies. 

Love,

The girl you called gorgeous. (I’m still blushing thinking about it. I’m weird with compliments.)

Letter to a Stalker#1 

You want to get a peek into this head. Come take a look. But don’t blame me if you walk back scarred. Because I am not the pretty face you assume me to be. I’ve seen things, endured things that would shake you to the core. 

You don’t know what goes on in my mind. I speak, I write, I’m an open book, it seems so easy to say you know who I am. 

But no one knows the truth and it is because I don’t allow them to. It isn’t mainly because of my trust issues though that IS one of the reasons, but it is because I don’t give you the right. I don’t consider you worthy. I only share what you think me capable of sharing. 

Yet, here you are, reading through ramblings of a mad girl who writes letters to stalkers who want to peek inside her head. So who is the crazy one here?

Sometimes I think it’s all stupid. Being around people, talking to them, writing to them, putting out these thoughts on paper because what’s the point?

You won’t ever know what’s truth and what’s not and even if you did, what could you do about it?

I’m over your judgements, quite above help.

Stares,

We’re all mad here. 

Letter to a Stranger#16 Playing the innings

Dear out of my league guy,

​I just realised we had our first mess in the series of ups and downs yet to come. But we sorted it. So easily.

Because you can’t hold on to anything negative. Neither can I. 

And we’ll talk shit out whenever there’s something bothering you or I. This is how it works. This is how we stay awesome. And I had so much fun, laughed harder than I ever have, till my stomach started hurting and I couldn’t breathe. I still think about the events of the evening and I burst into a chuckle and a wide grin. 

I danced more freely, in front of people. Never thought I’d ever become that confident. My insecurities are washing off with each day I spend next to you. 

You make my worries disappear. 

And I feel high, calm and totally content in that sofa with a coffee in one hand and your fingers entrapped with mine. I watch you when you’re not looking. I’ve seen you do it too. 

Maybe that’s why we hold on to each other because we can’t believe this is the truth. 

I think we’re more alike than I thought before. I misjudged you, making assumptions. 

But you were wrong too in putting me on a pedestal. Many people have done it before you. Is it the image of perfection I project? Or the mess when someone gets too close that they can’t handle?

Always assuming I am out of league, to the point where I don’t even know what league I belong to. 

But right now, we’re on the same pitch. Let’s play the innings. 

Letter to a Stranger #15 Timing and emotions

Dear I notice everything but the obvious,

​It takes less than a minute for things to turn bad. 

And more than 10 minutes for it to start feeling good. 

Timing.

It is very important.

Something else is too. Feeling. The way we share our spaces with such playfulness, it takes all my senses to the peak where it stays in awe of how I could be feeling this way. 

And yet, I knew it was too good to last. Because priorities change. For me, it changed from you to myself.

And for you, it changed from me to yourself too. 

Can’t say I blame you but you should’ve given me time, to be able to adjust to it. 

Less than a minute is what it took for me to fall off the peak. 

But forget the timing, you say you notice things, concentrate, observe. I guess not too much. 

Because you didn’t SEE, you were just looking. I do look pretty sometimes, don’t I?

It’s when I wear my mask confidently. But it’s also when I’m at my lowest point. But you never saw that. You just saw the mask. 

You didn’t see the protest, just playfulness. You didn’t see that my aggression was to prove a point, not a signal of your success. 

But here I am, still figuring out where it all went astray.

Something that should’ve felt like ecstasy makes me sick to my stomach. 

All about timing and emotions. You have faulty timing and I’m terrible at emotions. 

Who is at fault here? I can’t blame you and I dare not blame myself. Why couldn’t have you been paying attention?

Why did I have to be so cold and numb? 

How can it all feel good in one second and so terrible the next?

Should I just tell you the truth now that it’s happened or keep it buried in my chest?

Would it break your heart the way it is breaking mine or would you not care at all?

I don’t like either outcome. But those are the only possibilities with you. 

Why..why did it have to be you? And that too at this point in my life and with such additional baggage?

I will sleep over this. And forget, forget and forgive.