A Tribute to the Hopes I Had: Letter Nº10

I wanted to write a song about it. I couldn’t. I can’t get the words right and I’m pretty sure it’s because I haven’t got the grasp of the reality yet. I’m not sure what I want to say. I worked out the melody but the words either get too sad or too sentimental and for obvious reasons I can’t have them ruin the song.

So I decided to dedicate my 10th letter to you and tell you of the year that has passed us both. When I was trying to write a song, I thought of how we met and the conversations we had. I thought of the place, the time, the feeling, and who I used to be and even the movies that were on big screens those days. that was 2 years ago and we fell out almost immediately so I don’t know much about how you’ve changed but as for me, I’ve grown to be a pessimist.

I’ve learned that every life might be a story but that doesn’t mean it’s significant. Chapters don’t come right after one another and sometimes between two, there are just pages of blank white paper or in my case drawings of psychopathic 67 year old underdog who is desperate to make it out of this life as a success. that doesn’t matter as long as you’re brave enough to turn the pages, you can never get to the next chapter without turning those pages and for some odd reason, after almost two years, I feel lucky. lucky as if the next page might be the chapter I would want to get to.

I wish I could explain the things that have happened with something as simple as “fate” or “destiny”. I wish I could just blame it on something we couldn’t control. I can’t explain to you or anyone else why it was worth it but also I wish I could’ve told you that I could’ve avoided it; I’m afraid I can’t.

As for now, I have lost the sense of reality. I don’t find anything real about what one may call memories and I wonder if others feel the same. I know it might feel like I’m saying I have lived my dream and I can’t bear to believe it but it’s not like that at all. I wasn’t even living my nightmare. I simply don’t believe I lived it at all. I lived through it. I came across what I came across and I met who I met. I made the decisions that I made and I’m starting to wonder if I was in the right mind. It’s hard for me to recognize myself and comprehend what my life is now when everything that happened feels so unreal. You might be the most real, most unbelievably true, and deep down terrifying thing I’m dealing with.

I don’t know what’s going to happen in 2 years but I never want to see you grow older. I’m afraid of not making it to the next years. If you’re right about how you feel about me, about how somethings just always feel the same, does that mean I will make it to your 20s album?

I wonder what life is going to look like for you in the next 10 years. Will you still be doing what you’re doing? Will you still laugh at the same jokes? Am I still unable to make you laugh like you make me? I wonder if you’ve already had your first kid and I wonder how long will it take for you to forget our inside jokes.

What if I had known what you knew then?

It seems like you and me, fundamentally, are based on such an unsettled, debatable, and undetermined phrase: “What if”. It was you who came up with it. I think it’s because we both know there is no eternity to sunshine and no mind is as spotless as we wish.

I have questions to ask you, talks to have with you, walks to take with you, nights to spend with you and what-ifs to try out with you so I’m not worried about our not spotless minds and I don’t mind the sunshine not being eternal, you like night-time more anyways.

I wonder why I talk to you about my family or my secrets. I wonder why you keep talking to me even when you’re dead tired. I wonder what makes me brave enough to write this letter. One day, I’m gonna look back at this letter and I wonder how it’d make me feel.

You know I spend a good amount of time thinking about death but tonight I’m thinking of your birthday.

Can’t wait to see you again.

sincerely,

-Ghazal.