When was the last time you were truly happy? When was the last time you took ear to listen to the faint whispers of your heart? Do you still remember how to laugh without cruelty or to smile without malice?

When I look at you, I can still see your reflection, but directly I cannot see your face. You have changed and such a change that is quite deceitful. Sometimes, I think I can see you looking back, wide-eyed and dreamy, happy and content. But like the passing of clouds shielding the sun, so swiftly you put up your guards and I see someone else altogether.

I wish people could understand you. I wish they can see the fragile soul that hides behind the tough and shallow exterior you use to keep yourself from all the threats of pain. I wish they can see the drowning shadows that lurk behind the blinding smile, the ever consuming jaws of doubt that lingers behind every sure and graceful stance. I wonder if they ever realize that every time you strut all polished and dressed to the nines is when you are actually at your lowest, the heart barely able to wheeze out the life you so magnificently pretend to have.

It is heartbreaking to know that the people who claim to  love you doesn't know  you, nor do they see you in the light where you truly shine. It is haunting to hear you faithfully cry out, hoping that anyone could hear but as always, you're met with the harsh truth that nobody cares. You have so many questions and so many answers  yet people just cannot be bothered to ever listen. And so for every song you mutely sing, you die and in the ashes rises another you, still the same yet not entirely so. Someone harsher, colder and emptier rises in the wake of your death.

If they could only see the beauty in which everything is seen by you, breathe the emotions people only feel and taste the smell and color s of everything taken for granted, then perhaps they'll understand why you are at your best and truest when you cry. And maybe, if I only know you well enough, then I could finally understand why you always find the beauty in the brokenness and desperation of could-have-beens; why you always see the bliss in the madness of pain.

Beloved,

I miss you. This emotion, it's so intense it's terrible. The days and nights are colder now but particularly because they're empty. It almost feels like the cyberian breeze is dancing to the frosty tune the season fiddles and my heart more than ever, longs for the warmth your embrace could only afford. The rain constantly pours, washing my window panes perpetually but that's as far as they could go. I hope they can wash your memory from my heart.


Where has time taken you now? Have you found another? Has your fluttering lips found another anxious bud, seemingly sweet? Has your thoughts found another bosom to rest upon? Has your heart started beating on a new song? Where are you? I close my eyes and I still see you but you are fringed by dark mists and I cannot see where you are. As I caress your face with my longing, I see that you are not even looking my way. It pains me to know that you sense me but decide to ignore me, pretend to glance almost my way but not really reaching me.

Are you happy? Are you warm? I wish I have any other way to talk to you, to tell you what I really want to say, to hear your voice or just to hear you breathe.

Every new year marks another notch to the number of years that I have been loving you, continually holding out my torch for you. After all these months of searing paranoia of silence, after so many songs lost in the wind, fantasies woven into the tapestry of dreams, finally you turn to look at me, but decided to not really see me. Why?

I wish you'd stop asking me why I love you and then ask me not to. I wish you'd stop asking me to bare you my soul and tell me you have to stay away. I wish you'd stop telling me I'm the music of your heart then walk away singing an entirely different tune. I wish you'd stop asking to hold my hand only to say goodbye. I wish you'd stop asking me to read the poems I've written for you only to dance around me and pretend not to hear everytime I say I love you. I wish you'd stop looking at me and start seeing me. I wish you'd stop telling me your shirt still smells of me when all these times, you know I've been blindly groping for a shoulder to hold my head when I feel I need to be with you and I'm not; which is all the time.

I don't know what went wrong. Do you still think of me? Are you just busy even on holidays inspired by and for love or do we just have different meanings for the word forever? I religiously read your last letter, memorizing every word, burying them in my heart, hoping they would take the place you've left and warm me where your arms have failed to embrace. Do you still dream about me? Do you still hope to dream about me?

If only words can immortalize emotions.

*the author wishes to express that her intentions for baring such personal epistle is solely for art and art alone. She no longer posses these heartaches nor does she chase after these lost dreams anymore.

Dear Friend,

I sometimes think I'm dumb and I know I still don't understand a lot of things. I don't pretend to play Dr. Phil either on emotional dramas my feeble compassion couldn't wrap itself around on. I also know I'm not good with words when I feel lost and unsure. Perhaps, at times I may seem rude or uncaring when I suddenly fall silent. I wouldn't know what to say, perhaps overwhelmed and confused.

And just like before, I am again stuck in this crack. I have never been able to understand how a friend can stop being happy for another and rather cultivate hate and sow seeds of doubt. Why would anybody do that?

I am aware that I am one of those "easy-to-please" people. I don't think I am complicated when it comes to people reading how I feel. Forgive me for my lack of sophistication but even when I am swimming in my pool of misery, I could not remember me stopping from being happy for my friends, and much more wish them to be unhappy as I am.

I cannot drop my life for you and push everyone away and be miserable too, just to show you how much I feel for you. I am sorry that he was an ass and I am sorry you wasted 2 years waiting for him. I am sorry that I don't know the right words to comfort you more than what I've already said and offered.

Now, it has become more obvious and clear that you were never happy for me. When I was with Mr. Moon, you were contradictory and thought I was too young to know any better. You were "relieved" when things ended and you were mean all throughout my grieving period. Now that I am with someone who truly loves me, you sneer and tell me I'm too young to be somebody's "penguin."

You were selfish of your own happiness and only remembered me when you need to whine. I had thought you to be beautiful. I thought your sense of "reality" was too seasoned for naive little me to ever understand.

Well, I am not sorry for being happy. I am not sorry for loving and most definitely for being loved.

For what's it worth, I still think you are truly beautiful , if you only allow yourself to be.

And for all my apologies, I am most sorry that you have converted to assholism.

Sincerely,
Dee

A sequel to my previously posted love letter, although different. I still stand by my belief that other than love, what the world needs is more love letters.

Beloved,

Tonight is one of the many and countless nights I lie awake, praying for you until sleep would kiss my eyes. As I have incessantly done over the years, I'd float into a timeless nook where I'm beheld by you until the morning sun would caress my face. There we would depart only to be reassured that each departure is a tug to the chain of days where we are linked together. One sweet day, you'll find your way to me and I to you.

When you finally will see me, you won't notice that I'm plump and that my hair is topsy-turvy short. That my eyes are too big and my lips too small would be of no importance to you. That I have a scar and my skin is not perfect won't matter to you for you would see someone different. You will see someone breathtakingly beautiful through eyes graced by love.

I can talk and act without pretense, wearing my heart out on my sleeve and you won't be displeased. Rather, grateful - appreciating the sincerity and trust. You will know and value the trust and respect I have in you because you love me.

In return, you will never know what it's like to be jealous and insecure because you will know that I won't love any other guy but you and only you. By then, you should know that I've loved you before I even met you. It's you I have consistently been asking GOD for. You will know that how you look won't matter at all for I already have a picture of you in my mind taken from my heart's eyes. How you will look won't change the way I will see you. You can age up to a thousand and still I'll see the disarmingly handsome prince whose every smile takes my breath away. It won't be your looks that will sweep me off my feet, leaving me lovestruck and swooning in daze. It will be the kindness, the witty humorous quips, the respect, the patience, the understanding and even the little seemingly insignificant things that you will do that will lock the chains and make you the keeper of my heart.

You won't always feel a need to fill in the silence of every second we're together with impressive and sophisticated words for you will know that silence don't necessarily mean void, especially when I'm with you. Sometimes, a lot of things are known better through words not spoken through the lips. You will value silence as much as you value time for you will know that there is no time wasted in silence but rather, most of the magnificent and priceless things are witnessed in silence. You will hear me better when I say I love you in silence.

You will appreciate the beauty only nature can provide. As the sunset shouts the glory with each magical hue it paints in the endless sky, so along with it will you see my love for you. You will know that every declaration of majesty and awe you see around you is also the declaration of my love for you.

You will be sure and you will have peace for you will know that my love won't end along with the last breath I shall take. Death is temporary. Death doesn't have the power to end my love for you. I can and I will love you even beyond eternity, that, you can be certain of.

You will know that I love you because I do.

Yours Alone.

The world needs more love letters.

I'll let you all guess if this was written based from a real life heart break or merely just fictional. *winks*



Beloved,

I have become a master story teller, weaving fantasies of you intricately into my web of dreams every night. I have time and again solved the herculean maze of the forever jarring unfolding of these fantasies and before the first breath of sunlight could kiss the eyes of dawn, I'd be in the possession of your arms, where home is just a fraction of a heart-beat away. Though you elude me and have hidden your presence from me, thoughts of you still bring me hope and assurance that everyday is a day closer to forever.

I still hope for you with every breath I take. I still long for you with every beat of my heart. Your words still ring true to me and I still hearken to their promise of bliss. Your memory still warms my heart and prevents the icicles of frustration and vagueness to grow and inhabit in me.

You, in just the form of distant ambiguous memories still can shatter the defenses I've built and have surrounded myself with. With just few guarded words uttered in absolute care, you still see right through me. You just know what to say to keep me forever anticipating for you, thoughts heavily pregnant with hopes.

You once said that I am the "something" that you've been searching for and now that you've found me, you'd never want to ever let me go. That all you want to do is hold me tight to yourself and never let go of  forever. Forever. Forever is so close but somehow seems like several worlds away.

Yours Alone.