Dear you

Dear you,

I’ve been thinking about writing since some time ago, but somehow always find a more urgent matter. An excuse, some might say.

I’m sorry I hadn’t answered your past letter… or the other six that you sent. I am doing fine. I really think so. I am doing fine. I had my fresh new start, exactly the way I had been wanting it since so long ago. Here no one seems to know who I am. It is refreshing to be able to joke and smile lightly without having people talking behind my back or wondering what is the next thing I’ll come up with. It is almost as if the last three years didn’t belong to me. Who knows, maybe it was a dream or a distant memory of a life I thought was mine but in the end wasn’t. I wake up every morning and go to school with people that say hello and make fun of me with me or we make fun of something else together. I laugh, I laugh hard. Sometimes I laugh so hard that I almost feel like crying, but I never really do. I wonder why that is. Mid morning my new friend and I go buy a coffee at the coffee machine in the fourth floor. We always joke about how our loved was doomed and how it would’ve never worked between us. Besides, he’s got a really nice girlfriend which he loves a lot. More than once, I’ve caught myself wondering how such love might feel. I tend to stop myself before going in too deep. I remember what you used to tell me: Do not overthink.

I’ve been doing some progress with my writing. Sometimes I just sit and write for hours without knowing where time went. Some others I go out with these new people, and we drive through places I didn’t know about with loud music and talk about life’s simple pleasures. If you were wondering, I’m still not sure of which mine is. To answer that I have to realize first to whom I am asking that question. That is another thing I don’t think I know, at least not now.

Mom and Dad are doing great, and I think it is been almost a year since we fought so bad that I had to pack my things. Dad doesn’t yell to me anymore, and I really love him, I do. I think I am happy. I am happy now.

Things are going good for me. I study and don’t complain much. I haven’t had the urge to run away in a while, which is a good thing. How have you been doing? Is the city still as bright as you expected? Do you still let Sasha cuddle in bed with you when it starts to get cold? I miss that little thing.

I am curious… that life you knew about, is there any trace of it in your side of the world? I know I must be out of my mind. I must be, because it can’t be normal to wish for that which I wanted to get rid of. Can you keep a secret? Sometimes I secretly think I’d like to go back. I feel like someone else with a fresh new start, with a huge future ahead… I just wish I could feel like that someone was me. It is so strange to feel as light as I do, and more strange it is to live like there is no past pulling me from behind. I must’ve cut the cord that connected today to yesterday, and I dare say it wasn’t the best choice I made.
Why else would I miss her? Why would I feel like I got hit by a bus and had my mind emptied? It is as if I had amnesia or something with occasional sparks of a life I’m not sure was mine. I crave to know what was of that life.

I wish I didn’t have to stop writing, because every letter I type brings me closer to remembering it. First the end, then the middle, and back to the beginning. But it is late, and I am expected to have dinner with everyone downstairs.

I have a whole bunch of things to tell you about, but that’ll have to wait. Before I put down my computer, I’d like you to know that while writing these couple of letters, I felt something. It was my life. It wasn’t a dream. It was all my life to the very core. Every night, every shadow and laughter and every huge disaster belonged to me. It was all mine, and I’d give anything to have it back.

I promise I’ll try to make time to answer all of your letters soon. Please bare with me.

Until next time.

-A.