Sunday, November 4, 2007

an open letter...
... or a sock story. I'm debating on which one to put.

Ahwell, might as well go with the open letter first, since I thought of it first.


I've always planned on how I'm going to go about a post where I post an open letter. I've made countless, really BS-filled ones that just find their way to the bin. Pretty good, since I've been making written open letters to Daniel Radcliffe, Penn Badgely and whoever else is on my mind that day. :)) I once even made an open letter to my dog.

Never have I thought that I would make an open letter to this person (it's a SHE okay, so don't even think of getting your mind THERE.), and never will I have thought that my open letter would be this way.

Here goes nothing.


Dear y o u.

I've always wondered why you got everything. Wondered so much that I reached the point of thinking that universe gives everything to the people who least deserve it.

But now, I guess I know why.

You are a really brave person. And to me, it takes some time, some words, and a bucket load of tears to realize that.

Even before this whole shebang-thing happened, I've always envied you for the most obvious reasons. Now I envy you not only because of the concrete things that you possess, but the fact that even if you knew that 'they' wouldn't understand you--that we wouldn't understand you... the fact that you'd know that people would be thinking that you're a silly b*tch behind your back... you still did it. Because you know you'd be happy. And 'they' won't understand you. Probably won't ever will. 'They' won't understand you either. But they'll pretend that they do.

You're just waiting for some people who'd understand. Who'd listen.

But I don't think 'they' didn't listen. Which makes this whole letter BS, if that is true.

It's silly, really. How things aren't always what they seem. People won't really know what's going through your mind, unless you let them know. Most cases, they won't understand, and they'll fight the urge to react...maybe terrified of what more that you're going to say.

People hate dislike(you can never really hate someone, maybe dislike, but not hate. it's such a strong word) you now. And probably, behind closed doors, you worry. But you choose to appear not to care, because you figure that's the only way it'll drive them away. Maybe. Or maybe you appear not to care...because you really don't.

Now I understand.

That maybe before, everything seemed okay. Everything IS okay. Everything's alright. Pero I'd bet you had this nagging feeling. The nagging feeling. The nagging feeling that you have to come out. You have to come out of your shell. That you have to be who you really are. And with these people, it's hard to pretend. It doesn't mean that you don't love them, it's just that you're tired of pretending. Maybe they don't appreciate the real you? Maybe you're not comfortable showing who you really are, afraid that they'd judge you then and there. Even to the point of seeking other people's shoulders to cry on...because maybe they're just tired of hearing the same a broken record.

It's like... from the outside, our planet's really beautiful. A beautiful, colorful thing amidst a mass of gases and whatnots. Beautiful, with the idea of having living things in it.

Pero you have to get in, and yes, you see the beauty...but you have to see the ugly either. And I guess being an optimistic person, I just hate seeing the ugly part. Just focus on the beauty.

Different perspectives form different opinions.

So maybe you're not that brave, leaving things unsaid. But from where I am right now, you'd be atleast 500 km. from the finish line, and i haven't even started running yet. I can't even put your name in the dear part. I can't even put any hard evidence on your identity.

We've both got a long way to go. We've both got ourselves to find.

Maybe what I'm thinking of is wrong.

But writing all this, sure beats the hell out of sorting our sock drawer to clear my mind.

Hats off to you pal.

From M E.


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