Letters

Letters are proof of someone’s existence in your life. It’s intimate, raw, and full of love, although it could also be full of hate…Regardless, it’s someone taking the time to think about you and write about you, if that’s not love then what is?

Recently, I challenged myself to a screen time limit of 1 hour each day. I drew, I read, and I cleaned my room. In the middle of cleaning, I found this pink tin box deep inside one of my shelves. Upon opening it, I was greeted with stacks of papers and envelopes and I couldn’t help but smile.

I paused my cleaning, brewed a cup of tea, and sat down on my bed. One by one, I opened each of them and read it. Towards the end, my tea was left untouched and had gone cold but my eyes were blessed with tears and my heart, incredibly warm. These are letters written to me by close friends, the oldest even dating back to 2018. I felt so emotional until my eye caught a little yellow/blue card. Immediately, my breath hitched and something inside me was screaming. (Writing about it now just sounds like I was overreacting…I probably was) but before I could think, my hand instinctively reached for it. So I read it. In fact I read it many times back to back after which, my hand was fully shaking, and I press the letter close to my chest, sobbing.

[redacted] gave it to me on my birthday last year. At that time, I remember feeling delighted receiving it but almost a year later, I can’t even get myself to look at it without feeling upset.I read somewhere that missing something is a privilege because it is proof that you once cared deeply enough about them that their absence makes you uncomfortable. It hurts too much, like a chronic sickness to which there’s no cure for, except time. Sometimes I wish I never felt like this. Letters can be a haunting reminder that a person who gave them to you has left, a reminder of impermanence, but it’s also proof that there was someone who once cared for you, an immortalized proof of a relationship you once shared, be it platonic or romantic.

Writing is an act of love and I’ve been so fortunate to have met people who cares for me that deeply. Each and every one I receive, I keep it close to my heart, even if it’s from someone I don’t talk to anymore. I will forever be grateful.