HwritestoL

Dear L,

Take me back to the time when you were just an alphabet

Its bizarre.

I had no idea a simple letter, a mere alphabet, would hold this much volume in my letters.

You have no idea either. Probably never will.

I miss back when L was just an alphabet. Now it occupies more than half of my notes, my patterns to the folders of you, the passwords to my door, my heart.

And while you're just a kilometre away from me, i can't help but think what will happen if I just go up to the office in my pyjamas and talk with you about what's kept you up there for so long.

You'll ask how I got to leave so early and I'll tell you all about my day. Even the anxiety attacks too.

We'll go to your favourite spot for dinner, mine for dessert. And I'll come back to my hostel in that horrid bike of yours, but enjoy the ride. My hands in your hair. Yours on my hips. Ah, I'm a hopeless romantic. And a tortured poet.

But if you asked, said come, let's go. I'll leave all my half burnt writings, my clothes with your thoughts woven in them, my books with your name on them, I'll leave it all and blindly follow you. For you're the fire, I'm just a stupid moth.

Seriously though, what would you do if I came right this instant to the office?

Maybe i speak, maybe i die

Hey L,

I'm on a train and I'm thinking of you.

And I want to tell you what will happen if i decide to be brave.

I'd start off by asking you out for a tea, coffee for you? Whichever you prefer. And I will ask you to continue what you were saying when I was pressed up against you, no- the first time.

You barely spoke the second time. Which by the way, will be my next question.

I'd ask all about your lessons, little wins, failures, your first love, your friends back in college and school. And if you still talk to any of them.

I'd then ask how many siblings you have. Are they cunning like mine or sweet like the ones that came for me, but from another mother? I'd ask you about your parents. Are they typical like mine or are they whatever I'm imagining right this instant.

I'd then ask about what hurt you the most when you were a child. Because if there is one thing I find relatable among people, it's their pain. You see, this will help us get closer. And i get to prove myself that I'm not a coward anymore.

I'd ask you about what kind of business you're interested in. And while I ask you this, I'll probably get lost in the stories I'm spinning of both of us in my mind. For you're great at whatever you do and I will sit with you and admire each of your successes and failures. Perhaps we'd retire on a nice farm back at home and we'll sit on our balconies sipping something sweet.

After this story ends, I'd ask you what kind of people you've met. Strangers, friends, relatives. But speak of only your favourite ones. Because if I am not what I am now I'd have written poems about my favourite people that'd stun the poets.

I'd ask you too many questions in between and i sometimes get lost in myself. So feel free to slap me. Or kiss me. Whichever you prefer.

I'd then tell you about the moments I was being sneaky for you. When I asked little details of you nonchalantly. Pretending as if that's the last thing that I care about. I'd tell you it was the most difficult moment to not care.

I'd tell you about the times i kept watching your photos discreetly on screens. When you were right beside me but was too shy to look you in the eye. I'd tell you how once again I realised that i should never choose acting as my career even if my life depends on it.

And if i think this seems like a journey that'd lead to a destination i want to cherish, I'd show you this and ask you out again.

What a waste this would be if you turn out to be a Man. I hope you would just be you.