Bookmark #241

To whom it may concern,

I write to you with the highest of spirits and the brightest of moods. It is the bluest of monsoons, and I often wake up at night to find the rain slowly drizzling outside. Sometimes, it’s a comforting storm. The other night I went out into the balcony and stood there for a few minutes, half asleep, staring at the nothingness as the storm raged on. It was a beautiful moment. At first, I wanted to keep to myself, but I am terrible at keeping things to myself. If you’ve been reading any of these words, you’d very much be aware of that about me.

If there’s anything I have understood in the past year, it’s that I am not a morose person. I’m not as sullen as I imagine myself to be; perhaps, I’ve just been tired for a really long time. Truth be told, I have not felt as elated as I do currently for years, and I wanted to tell someone that I took a walk today, but I was in no hurry at all. I believe if you don’t tell things to someone, they are often forgotten. We are but a collection of the mundane stories we tell each other about our days, commutes, and antics.

It turns out I don’t have much to say to you besides this tiny confession, but I wanted to write to you nonetheless. I believe I have never properly thanked you for reading those winding paragraphs. I don’t know what year it is there, what your life looks like, or how these words will stand the test of time or memory, but I do know this, you know me now, for better or worse. I hope you remember me as someone who deliberately found beauty and grace and who was happy.

Oh, before I forget, I do have something to tell you after all. The other day, I walked down the neighbourhood, and I saw a little boy run towards this lush bed of marigolds planted outside a random house. He squeaked in joy; he stood there laughing and clapping at the beauty of those flowers, but never once did he reach out to pluck them.

I think that was the most beautiful thing I have seen in my entire life. I think it saved me. I wish you were there to see it. I believe you’ll find a moment of your own when you need it. I hope it won’t take as long for you.

I feel oddly hopeful; I still have time.

Much love.

// if you want to support this walk to nowhere, you can pitch in here