Letter to Mr No Labels#3 Pineapple ice cream

How come you’re the only person who likes my hair tied up? Yeah, this is another letter to you because I just can’t seem to stay away no matter what I make up my mind regarding. And how can I? When you wake up at 4 am just because I am unable to sleep.
When you give me the space because you think you’re getting too serious. And tell me ‘I don’t wanna be your lover. I just want to remain a freak for you.’
Do you know how adorable that is? I get high just looking at your face and when I’m already high. Well then, there’s just you I want to talk to. Because you’re the only one who gets it.
I can’t understand how people can want relationships. And I tell you straight away that it isn’t something for me. And I say it to your face that I’m numb and feel nothing.
For me my alone time is like a kid craving vanilla ice cream with chocolate syrup. Just can’t resist it. But sometimes you do come across kids that are lactose intolerant. And I do allow people to invade that alone time.
But you’re just like pineapple icecream. I love pineapple and ice cream too. But never had it together. And yet you present yourself like, I’m all you want and more. Just take me, taste me. You will never go back to vanilla again.
And on certain nights I almost pick up a spoon and on certain days I feel diabetic. And sometimes I just want spice and no sugar. But always, do I want to see that smile that just says. I don’t care if you don’t like me. I like you and that’s all that counts.
And it still hurts when you don’t believe the stuff I tell you. Because I never say stuff I don’t mean. And yet when you ask me to speak the truth, doubting, not my word, but yourself. It really annoys me.
Because you’re pineapple icecream. Of course I’m curious.
And you do sweet things like try to wake me up in morning when you know I’ll never wake up and my alarm does a better job anyway.
And I just hate mornings except the ones when I do realise you’re calling. And I wake up, listening to your voice, thinking that maybe today won’t be too bad.
And I am just so giddy today even though I haven’t heard from you. Because even though I fell asleep after waking you up, you still tried to wake me up in the morning.
And I just saw a dog with a collar run in a funny way. It was all on its own enjoying the morning. And I thought to myself, it’s a good day.
Why couldn’t you just have been chocolate chip cookies? I could take one and then not want it anymore.
You could’ve also been the non-fat jelly. I wouldn’t look at you twice.
But you had to go and be the pineapple ice cream.
My hair is tied up today and I’m listening to the same song over and over again. And I can’t tell you..at all..how much I miss how we used to be. I think I don’t want vanilla ice cream with chocolate syrup anymore. I got tired of it.
Can I just have one spoon?

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Letter to Mr No Labels #2 I’m done.

I’m done contemplating what I felt for you because it’s already in the past. There’s no ‘us’ anymore. There never will be. Perhaps, there never was. I’m done trying to see if it could still work out. I won’t be making all the efforts this time. You took your chance. It’s over now. I’m done keeping you in my mind and in my letters. Yeah, I promised you a hundred letters but guess what? I rarely make promises because I know I never keep them. So this may be the last letter I write for you. Or it may not. Depends on where life takes me.

But I’m done making just you the subject matter of my thoughts because I got bored, like I knew I would. And you did nothing to change it. Like I knew you wouldn’t. You’re still the last person I called and I saw you didn’t pick up. The distance you’ve created, it helped me make up my mind that what I’ll be doing is right. You were good but I would be lying if I never told you I did like your vibe. And in my mind I had given you maybe six months before I would get bored and we would inevitably fall apart. I don’t think it has been that long. But ultimately, I was right in thinking what I did.

That’s why I stay away from popular advice and laugh at people who tell me to give it a try. Because I know how I am and I know how people are. And I know the way circumstances change and how something that once felt completely right can start feeling completely unrecognisable. I never see my friendships measured in the long term scale because I know sooner or later I’ll be at this point again. Saying I’m done and meaning it.

I’m sorry. But I told you from the start. This is how it is. This is who I am.

Goodbye.

Letter to Mr No-Labels#1 The Time it hurt

The time when you didn’t tell me I would see you today but showed up, announced. It was great.
The time you looked at me and broke into a smile and I couldn’t say another word but, ‘Hey. What’s up? Everything okay?’ It wasn’t us. But I suppose, it has been a while.
The time you called me up, even though you were fifteen steps away. I smiled, until you spoke and it was just work that needed care.
The time I asked you if everything between us was fine and you said ‘No’ jokingly and refused to explain why. I think I’m falling back into my shell now.
And when I overheard someone say that you asked for another girl when you entered the college. Well, it hurt.
But Maybe I’m the one who put the distance between us. All the space that I needed, perhaps it made you drift away.
Or maybe I’m just being paranoid, writing about this while my body is burning up with a fever and I’m more emotionally vulnerable. Yet I can’t shake this feeling, that this drift has formed and we’ll just keep walking on different sides now.
And I’m still afraid of what I would show you when you ask to read a letter and I have nothing good to say.
And I still want to keep my promise. I still carry my pen, and keep you tied up somewhere near my hairband.
But I do let my hair loose often now and I keep you at arm’s length.
I just don’t wanna break my promise and I don’t want THIS to end.
But if I write honestly, you’re not the only one on my mind right now. There’s so much to do, so many people to save. So many friends I keep around for lonely days.
But there’s just one you.
There’s just one me.
And I can’t let you know my insecurities.
So I’ll still high-five you if I see you again.
And if I end up getting hurt, I’ll just let it be.

Letter to Myself #1 Destroying something Beautiful

Dear future me who is reading this,

​I like the sensation of destroying something beautiful.

If I see a beautiful face, I want to carve on it with a blade. If I see a beautiful building, I want to tear it apart brick by brick with my bare hands. I wish I had that power.

Or maybe I do, only I destroy intangible beautiful things and while it may fulfill the purpose, there’s not much satisfaction in it. 

Maybe I am broken. Maybe I just like to pretend to be. It makes you so much real and gives you substance where normality makes you boring. Vice versa depending on who you are. Broken or normal. 

I read somewhere that only broken people like reading as if they’re breathing air.

I can’t remember when I last read a book like that. Actually, I do. It was Murakami’s Sputnik sweetheart and Love in the time of Cholera by Marquez before it. 

But I was different then. I had given away the broken pieces of myself to others and was shoving things down the holes and cracks left behind.

Then I thought I found someone who’d take care of those pieces..the cracks, I tried filling in by whatever positive means I could. I tried emptying the trash I had thrown in myself. But before I could, I saw what I had done. 

I had destroyed something beautiful..that something being myself. Torn down my own bricks to hand over the pieces to someone else. The trash I thought I threw in the holes turned out to be gems..that filled me up like a treasure chest.

So when I scraped out the fillings that suffocated my cracks, and pulled out the treasure from the bottom of my core, realisation hit at what I had done. 

The destruction of something real in itself is quite terrifying but alluring.

But that also depends on who you are. Broken or boring. 

I don’t think anyone truly broken can ever be mended. The temporary fixes would come off the hinges.. the broken pieces would shift either closening the gaps or widening them. But they would never truly fit in back in their spaces.

In the meanwhile, all you could do is wear your heart on your sleeve, see the treasure not as trash and become as balanced between broken and boring as would stop the destruction of something.. beautiful.

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 instead 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 something I choose to run off 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. 

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 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.