Dear silent stranger
I guess I should start with a formal greeting to address you but I think I better skip that because formality is a tag very difficult to get rid of. It's like most of us stay stuck there without peeling it off lest the exposed wounds rub off on our skins and permeate deep within. Also showcasing sympathy from a distance is a great insulating mechanism without losing worth in someone's eyes. And most of us are too drowned in our own sorrows to be full time empathizers for the agony of others.
But anyway, my only greeting to you is that I believe in you. See now you must be saying to yourself that the guy is a hypocrite and practising the same emotional distancing technique here. But let me tell you that this is not an escapism but an initiative to propel you into taking control of your own life and being responsible for yourself. Actually I think this is the exact state from which the interaction between us should begin so that it can be strong, honest and symbiotic. But then we can't force things, can we?
And please trust me when I tell you how hard it is to open up and empathize with someone without either giving them a sermon or boasting about your own achievements like this was my struggle, I suffered too, I'm like you blah blah.
But you really seem to have captured a secret spot in the continuum of my breaths right from the moment I started addressing this letter to you. Maybe even before. Like you were always a part of me. But I didn't express it for the fear that mentioning eternity and forevers might have scared you away. Maybe now you are even cursing under your breath saying "Damn! Here comes another one with the overused proposition." And you are right so I won't talk any more about it.
I don't know what you will make of this but I'm in dire need of someone to lighten the load I feel inside. Ironically, calling it a load makes it sound skin deep and lusty. It's more like there's a sinkhole in my heart that's swallowing up my will to live with each waking day. I keep feeding it with new ideas, thoughts, interests, people but it's a shameless glutton. Swallowing them up all and still beating on unashamedly. It's like in place of a heart I have another growling stomach starving for salvation that ingests anyone who comes too close to hear its rumblings. And I put off my shower today to write this letter and now I feel like a sweaty lover who sweats not from the exertion of love making but from the agony of waiting. Till the sweat dries off and I'm pickled in the jar of my own body and marinated by the inability to verbalize my true intentions and longings for you.
By the way what do you think of people who struggle to pinpoint their feelings accurately and yet want to form a connect or bond with someone else? Is it their fault or of the one they want to bond with? Or is this so common that being capricious is the only way out of this conundrum? See! How I switched to the third person so cleverly and hesitate to address you directly. Well, I totally believe in communication but then the phobia of ending up with the same result after all the endeavors and efforts makes me guarded, discreet, too wary to end up with the same story all over again. Do you think you have a cure to this abstraction that hides a sinkhole behind the fervid tapestry of emotions?
I was never good at writing letters, but nothing to lose when nothing seems no longer good. So I make an attempt to reach you expecting that perhaps your sinkhole is bigger than mine and you could swallow me up eventually. Then atleast one of us would be at rest. Yes I'm being selfish talking of obsolescence while leaving you behind with the same kind of turmoil. Or I can swallow you up if that's what you want. In both cases it's like swallowing up the distance and coming closer till one of us ceases to exist. But then I'm not really sure whether you really exist in the first place while I can pinch myself back to reality.
There's a limit to the impact of lengthy discourses when it comes to winning someone over which after an extent only magnify one's own solitude. Therefore I think its time to say goodbye, that's the last formality I shall impose upon you. I will wait for your reply though, even if it's not in the form of a letter. Maybe a face, a person, a memory then. For death doesn't come so easily you know. Till then your silence is a reply I shall make do with.
wanna be communicator.