I should have talked to you. Your soft smiles were an indication enough, I should have stopped you, but you were always so immersed in your ways. Shy glances and sweet sighs. So many confessions twirled on your tongue, like sweet hard candy, melting before I could ever hear their crunch. Every once in while you would smile, let the secrets reflect in your eyes. And, I would forget. Forget your pensive stares. To remember what was in front of me. A mirage, that was all you. You and a semblance of me. A shadow that bore our names. Us. Together. In a different lifetime. In an alternate reality. But this, I cannot forget; we are here, in the now, in this place. In this actuality, you don’t talk and I don’t hear. We don’t speak and you are not near. I live with regret, for the things I didn’t do, the words I didn’t let escape in submission to my fears. Perhaps, it is too late. Time is too far gone to say, I should have stopped you. I should have talked to you.
I beg for your forgiveness in the hopes that you will grant me pardon for not writing to you earlier. I cannot with conviction say that I have felt myself to be sound of mind for the longest while. I do so hope that you will make sense of my ramblings and humour me for the sake of our friendship. No one understands the intricacies of my mind like you do. Perhaps, you understand me even better than myself.
Tell me something, have you ever observed a flickering candle flame as it ferociously fights the winds to stay alight? Have you seen it wax and wane – often reaching near extinction in its struggle to find a stable rhythm? And just when it attains the stability that it so deeply desires, a merciless gust of wind diminishes it; only it’s not a gust of wind but a warm breath released from the very lips that helped ignite the fire in the first place. The wick, they lit into a blazing inferno, now doused in water – ice cold.
I have been so lost lately, so lost inside the labyrinth of my fanciful mind. I conjure up memories to form grand illusions, alternate realities that I know will never come to exist. My consciousness is actively devouring me from the inside as the reality dawns on me and these contrived feelings drown me in despair. What little is left of me is a chrysalis protecting an empty inside, nothing but a hollow shell. The fuel that once powered the blaze within me – made me whole, doomed to run out, now has. My story is that of a flame, which is ignited only to be diminished. Whatever that remains, into ashes shall turn. I do believe for that to be my fate.
I do not wish to live to be a part of this contrived reality. Please give me a new life, heal my wounds with the soothing salve only your words can provide. I eagerly await your response.
To read the other letters in the “Letters to the Stranger” series, please CLICK HERE! Please do share your thoughts! x