Words and letters are slowly becoming a dying art. A man who takes the time and effort to write me a long letter that starts with Dear Elaine wins over everyone. It's old-fashioned but, it fascinates me. I love the touch and the smell of it. I love the thought placed behind each vowel and consonant. I love the anxiety of waiting for a letter for days and weeks. Behind every letter lies the story of a special connection.
In the summer before the last year of elementary school, me and my best friend, lily, sent thick stamped envelopes filled with news, drawings and pictures to each other during those two months spent apart. That summer, I learned to appreciate the art of writing despite my young age.
In high school, I exchanged handwritten letters with Mirlaine almost daily for five years. We wrote about the funny scenes of life, the ordinary things we discover, cute boys in our classes and analysis of theories by detailing moments that drive us along that train of thought. Those letters shaped our friendship and brought us closer in an unique way.
In a tiny room lacking air-conditioning, I filled a paper with words that I couldn't have said otherwise to the greatest person I’ve met in my life. In the early morning that I was about to fly 3000 miles away without pre-notice, I left the letter under his door before he waked.
In the middle of China, I lost my handwritten journal on a bus. I was intrigued by the possibility that a stranger might find it and read it. I also could've burned it, or gave it to someone...or it could be in a million pieces by now as well. The mystery of a handwritten journal is that you never know where it travels.
I once wrote words to serve dishonorable purposes. I received letters that I failed to appreciate, and I regret. I also wrote letters that I never sent. I write secret messages on steamed mirrors and windows. I write in an online journal for strangers. I write for those who can see past the thick layers of first impression and the rare ones who can make some sense of my insanity, passions and obsessions. I write hoping someone out there will really get to know me. Maybe someday.