Letters To a Stranger

I do believe we developed a lucid nature for dreams. They were so essential to survive, they still are. The very first time I ever tried to write was about a bad dream and it kind of sounded like this outmost fear of loneliness you are talking about. It was exactly what you’re talking about. Same fear of being left alone in a dark place where there’s absolutely nothing, not even air. Funny enough I rarely had any dreams like I told you, but there comes a time when the world itself felt like a bad dream. Everything wilted, it all went black and yes it felt like one day you woke up and all this magic of being a child was gone. I guess the worst part was that you never understood what went wrong, it felt like the sun has burned out. What happened to my heart I wondered, I couldn’t feel it the way I used to do. I asked my mother and she didn’t understand. It’s like I swallowed something dark that soon enough turned into an empty vacuum from the inside. Like a curse thrown at you while you were sleeping, simply because your dreams started defying what the world was offering you. I forgot the very first things the world offered me.

We are born and blessed with all these powers and all this magic, we are born invincible. You are a child and the world offer you everything there is for you to fall in love with it and for it to fall in love with you as well. You remember how air feels across your face for the first time, dust, rain, holding your mother’s hand, seeing the sea for the first time, words, you don’t understand words at first, growing a plant for the first time, the heat, the cold, what you are made off, what time is made off, the sounds around you. Things that would kill an adult to feel for the first time, these things were only made for children, the universe was made for children until they rebelled, so it rebels right back. And instead of this experience being a little taste of heaven you’re put right in hell. There is no grey in here, I wonder if there has ever been.

I think the world starts to hate you when you love something other than what it’s made off, when you no longer look at it’s beauty because you’re so busy being invested in other things that will sure hurt later. I wonder if it feels abandoned by us, and we don’t realize it until we ourselves are abandoned by it in return. You are in the system and there is this awful path that you’ll have to take, simply because it’s how life goes, everyone says. They tell you that it’s human-like to grow up, get an education, get married and try to build something for yourself out of it. They don’t tell you why. At this point the world turns into a bad dream. Why do we do things without feeling them, it’s like everything was designed to rip us from our emotions and this world. I used to tell my mother that I don’t understand what concept lies behind this certain method of life. What do we get out of it? no one seems slightly happy. The world turns out to be terrifying for a child when everyone is playing a part they don’t believe in, they can’t accept. Where everyone is chasing something that lacks meaning. You start to doubt what life means anyway. You start to believe you’re dying. This is dying, and the worst part is that the world makes you feel crazy for wanting to feel any of it. The world turns into a bad dream when you realize you’re going to go on like this for the rest of your time here, deprived of colors and meaning. Soon enough you start chasing meaningless things because there is really no chance here. It’s the constant fear and pressure of failing at something even though you have no idea what it resembles. This dark thing swallows you whole and you forget about your childhood forgetting about being touched with this world. We forget about nature and all the beauty we experienced at first, trying to catch vapor. Forever torn between wanting to feel something real and this system. It’s terrifying when people grow up and don’t notice they’re being deprived from their own identity and soul, just following a damned path. We get so hungry wanting to experience whatever is left from it forgetting that soon there will be nothing, and we’ll forever be empty.

I wonder if wanting love made the world mad at me, it sure felt like it did, because I’d be absorbed in the beauty of only one thing while it wants me to pay attention to it all instead. Thinking about it that way made me feel mad at people being in love for some reason, even myself. How can you be so blind and not notice everything else around you, it’s screaming your name hoping you would listen. How can you be in love with the world without being in love with a human being in the first place. You can never get hurt, this little taste of heaven. These are the powers of our childhood. This is a place where finally love isn’t full of pain, yet you get to experience it’s abstract joy. Only the sweetness of it. I felt like I cracked the code. I used to think that love is my forbidden fruit, the moment I felt it the world lost me. I wonder if I built a place where I can have them both. I wonder if I’m remembering my childhood because I’m remembering the world. For a moment I think I’m riping this world of it’s cruelty and turning it into someplace kind, do you think this is even possible? Soon enough I’ll get swallowed by my nightmares and my loneliness. Soon enough I’m going to be stepping into this bad dream I wrote about.

Yes, I do believe the same thing can be said about people. It’s the only right thing I believe. This is how people were meant to deserve each other. You don’t deserve something you can’t understand or you’re too scared too. This is where they meet. Everyone is a scary greenhouse until the doors are opened and you can finally see all those flowers blooming within. We give wrong chances to so many people though, we start to doubt if there has ever been anything beautiful at all. I spent my whole life in the wrong places, wondering if I’m ever going to get out. I don’t.

I have never written about my childhood or talked about it before you know. Maybe I’d do while remembering things with people who have been part of it but I never really looked at it the way I’m writing it to you. I feel safe doing so though. I have been silent for too long because I hated the way my words got stuck in the air between me and everyone else, I hated my tongue getting tied and no matter what I would say it would always feel wrong. I hated the silence that came after them as much as I hate the words. right here I feel like I’m putting it all to metaphors, like the bad taste of things wouldn’t get stuck on my tongue, like it was never mine to give. Remembering all of this was such a beautiful place to start and it’s all because of you and these letters. I can’t wait to read this story of yours. I can’t wait to finish the ocean at the end of the lane too.