I am participating in the 30 Days Letter Challenge where you write one letter each day. The 29th in the list is a letter to, ‘The person that you want tell everything to, but too afraid to’
Dear Person That I Want To Tell Everything To, But Too Afraid To,
In my head are pages that I write daily, about the day’s events, the sights and sounds; moments of unbearable lows and the ecstatic highs; of instances when feelings of inability to cope overwhelm; the certainty I feel of being an alien in a strange planet: the exasperation caused by failure to make myself understood; the bird that flew in through the door and caused a furore; what the dog barked at; where I am traveling next and why; what some pompous ass full of hot air said; the kitty-party gang on Facebook and its malicious back-stabbing ways; why I am against bans of any sort; that I am feminist; how gender inequality bothers me; how beautiful Wayanad had been; the plight of girl children; the unfairness of it all (the world sucks); the neighbors who cut their tree without informing us only to have it fall on our side of the wall which could have ended in an accident; how Luci makes me smile, smile and smile; how much I loved Big Sur; the black kite that flew low but which I could not capture quickly enough; what I made for dinner or lunch or breakfast; the theory of karma; the new restaurant I went to; the dress I bought after searching for long; how my back aches; the headaches that won’t go away; why I feel like crying, why I AM crying; how dark and rainy the day is and how I am enjoying it; how much I love kadwa karela; the movie I liked, the one I hated for its sexist approach; my favorite guy Psmith; how cornered I feel; that the modem has gone kaput and how I had to get a new one; how much I love my Kindle; the long train journeys I took and enjoyed; who hurt me and how; that I am going to see the doctor for my plantar fasciitis; how annoying bsnl is; what my next blog is about; why I prefer to wear shoes; how I feel tired all the time and how it makes me feel miserable; that I shampooed my hair; the college reunion I am going to; how I long to buy that new lens for my camera; why you must read a post I wrote; how my words were twisted out of shape and thrown back at me; the first flower that bloomed on the plant that I got from the nursery; how hopeless love is; the snooty butterfly that refused to pause to be clicked; that I am thinking of cutting my hair short; my fears that I have messed up; minute analysis of my role in life so far; the songs I got on iTunes; my dislike of religion, of people who do not speak the truth; dreams that have been buried, those still left; fears, tears, hopes, love, loss & acceptance………….
The pages are covered finely with words written in a smooth uninterrupted flow without pen or paper, with never a pause to find the right word that fits. And yet, I am afraid to tell it all to you, because *you* are just a figment of my imagination, *you* are only a dream that will disintegrate into nothingness when faced with reality.
The one who does not know what to do with all those filled pages and is looking for the raddiwala.
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©Shail Mohan 2014