…what a queer, compelling, and divine part of the job to make one character fall in love with another.

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The society that downplays, downsizes, and degrades women can go to hell…

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Only if one could
scoop love
out of these words
instead of a hug
a cuddle
or a long kiss…

Only if we could
learn to scoop love
out of these words…

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To the one I love the most,

I love you.

That’s all any of my letters want to say to you. All of my letters are a pathetic excuse to say that alone.

Eternally yours,
S

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Is there a love that one can’t live without? Probably. The love that brings out the childishness in you, when your bones feel old and withering—perhaps, that is the kind of love one can’t live without? Is there a suffering more grotesque and traumatic? Probably. When one hates themselves and hold on to a love that makes them feel dirtier and trapped—perhaps, that would make the suffering unbearable…

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To my dear creature,

I went to a pub yesterday. Nothing much to say about it. Loud music, fancy lights, and less clothes. Too much skin to skin contact.

When I told my friend the same, exactly the same words, he said that I am drinking something black and dark.

I tell him I love life. Like I love love.

I don’t tell him how one can lose everything in love. I don’t ask him to fall in love, then lose it because of sheer stupidity, and live with it forever. Neither can he understand the agony of trying to imagine your face, hands, and your warmth. Especially when the memories hit hard.

If he was right, and my views are as morbid as he say it is, would you bring me a lamp? I never would tell him or anyone in the table (let’s include the world too) that you are my northern star. My light house.

Eternally yours,
S

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When I was strolling through the park, I saw a flower with one of its petals missing—perhaps torn off by a strong gush of wind or a hand that admired its beauty before plucking it away. I am sure the flower wants to feel whole. But it doesn’t feel any less beautiful, because someone didn’t know how to appreciate its existence…

(Rest in the caption)

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You have no idea, do you, that we have found the one thing everyone else is desperately looking for… we found it and we let it slip through our fingers like two little fools!

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Grief is natural, when you have loved someone deeply. We speak about grief of the bereaved. Not much has been said about grieving over those we lost in the maze of life. They could be a turn or two ahead of us, but we don’t see them anymore. What could be said of that mourning?

We don’t grieve for the living.

We mourn for the loss of the best parts of ourselves that only they can bring out in us. We grieve when our darkness is no longer embraced. We are forlorn in the face of this loss, because we wouldn’t bump into another soul like them. We miss that face which made us turn our backs to the world.

We grieve for the parts that are rotting within us due to their departure. We grieve for the parts that barely survive without them…

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To Mister Right,

I love your beard.

Eternally yours,
s

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