#letter003

[afifahkhairunnisa]

Aku Tak Benar-Benar Merasa Kehilangan(mu)

Dear you,

Tak masalah jika kau enggan membaca apapun yang kutuliskan untukmu. Tanpa meminta balasan, aku sudah cukup puas menjadi penulis sekaligus pembaca  bagi diriku sendiri.

:::

Waktu terus merangkak maju, sudah habis masanya jika kita masih mengungkit sesuatu yang telah berlalu. Atau mencari-cari jati diri, melalui serangkaian patah hati yang berulang-ulang. Baik menyematkan luka atau pergi tanpa alasan.

Aku tak merasa kehilanganmu. Bukan karena tidak ada peduli atau rasaku hambar oleh luka. Kau sama sekali tak meninggalkan luka apapun. Aku tahu, masa lalu dan peristiwa lainnya memiliki makna yang bisa kita simpan sebagai pelajaran. Maka dengan berbagai kemungkinan atas persangkaanmu padaku selama ini,  dengarkan aku bukanlah perempuan yang memaksamu untuk lekas memberi kepastian. Aku juga bukan perempuan yang hanya sekedar menunggumu; melingkarkan janji di jari manisku kemudian mengikatku dalam akad. Karena bagiku perlu banyak tanggungjawab yang harus kita rapikan. Begitu banyak persiapan yang harus disemai. Begitu banyak usaha dalam meyakinkan diri tanpa ragu. Dan begitu banyak mimpi yang harus dituntaskan sendiri sebelum bersama-sama.

Aku  bukan lagi aku yang waktu itu selalu membuatmu cemas dalam menentukan prioritas mana antara memperjuangkan mimpimu lebih dulu atau diriku. Sedangkan waktu itu, aku masih saja mempertanyakan poisisiku dimana. Padahal jelas aku bukanlah siapa-siapa.

Dari sekian ceritamu soal apa-apa yang ingin kau raih saat ini, begitu jauh jika kita memikirkan sesuatu yang belum kita katakan tepat. Apalagi sebatas nafsu. Ada banyak mimpi yang ingin kuwujudkan nyata. Maka, dengan ini aku tak benar-benar merasa kehilanganmu. Karena kau yang baru menjadi lebih bijaksana dan tak tergesa-gesa. Karena kau akupun menjadi lebih bijaksana dan tak terlalu memburu perasaan tanpa ikut berjuang. Dan karena kau yang baru menjadi nyawa, hingga membuatku ikut bangkit.

Kehilanganmu bukan berarti duniaku terhenti. Atau aku meratapinya diam-diam. Aku tak merasa demikian. Kata orang, “Tak masalah kita kehilangan seseorang asal bukan diri kita. Tak masalah kita kehilangan seseorang asal bukan iman kita. Sebab Tuhan berhak memberi batas agar kita tak menjadi Hamba yang ingkar”

Aku melepasmu seperti kau melepasku. Sebab kita perlu jeda. Aku percaya bahwa cinta sejati pasti akan kembali; sejauh apapun untuk menjauh. Dan hati tak akan sedikitpun berpaling arah.

[oalefontes]

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@design1o1 Letter 003/101 - Like a (calligraphic) bird. #design1o1 #letter003 #paperbird #origami #calligraphy #blackletter #gothic

[diabolicalwomann]

There was no way to put in words how frustrating it was for Moriarty to be incarcerated. For a mind such as hers to be trapped in a box like that was a gar greater crime than anything she'd organized on the course of her career. Distraction was found, as it usually was, but it was not quite what she needed, not the challenges she enjoyed -- even if the hardest of the challenges were child play for a woman like her.

Certainly that was why she was so fixated on studying Joan Watson.

The mentions of Sherlock on Joan's newest response had an effect on her; He had always been the only one who managed that. Surely she was well aware the man found the letters she sent, his silence on the past weeks was most conclusive. The last thing Moriarty needed now was to be accused of hurting Sherlock yet again, however obvious it was. 

My Dear Watson,

            I admire your devotion to Sherlock, more so than you might let yourself believe. As you brilliantly pointed out shortly after we met, I do love that man, and the relationship he and I share is nothing short of unique.

            It is also true that emotional connection was never my strongest suit, nor it was Sherlock's; that being the main topic of our conversations on the past year. I don't expect you do understand the struggles of him and I, but I advise you to stop interfering.

            That being said, I offer to resume my interactions with him, provided that you also continue to write me. I'll apologize and explain my intentions to him, and we can continue our little experiment, if you will. Surely Sherlock will understand; no one appreciates science the way he does.

            An elaborate string of murders, as you so eloquently put it, was never my intention, although I enjoy your train of thought. I'm an artist, Joan Watson, and my creativity allows me to be far my complex than that.

            Hopefully I will not need to explain myself further.

            Send my best to Sherlock,

                                                                                                 Jamie Moriarty.

[sidneylewis-blog]

Letter 3# - A light in the dark.

Dear Kipper,

I still don’t like that nickname, it really isn’t growing on me. I should get to pick your nickname. But then again I named the first pet I ever had after it’s species. I had a cat that I named kitty... But then I hada dog, and I decided, as a genius seven year old that I would name him Wolf. My future children will be so happy with their names.

I’ll let you in on a secret: I did smile. I also chuckled a bit and my father frowned at me because he was watching a very serious dramatic movie, so I had to leave the room. I’m currently sitting on my bed with my music turned up really loud. All the lights are off so I’m kind of relying on the light of my iPod when I go over things, so forgive me if there’s like, a plethora of mistakes. (Boom. One of my favourite words is plethora, because people never know what I’m saying.) (I was studying earlier, forgive me.)

My words pack a punch that I don’t intend. I want to take the things I say back but it’s not really that easy. You don’t deserve it, you’re just as perplexed as me when it comes to life, so who am I to call you something like that. I’ll add Before I Fall to my reading list. (hint: It’s a very long list) I’m currently reading On The Road, and that’s pretty good so far. I like knowing that you read books. People who can read books without getting bored are usually the best kinds of people, in my opinion anyway.

Being rude isn’t good. Not for me. It doesn’t help me, and it doesn’t help me feel any better, it’s why I try to avoid being rude. I swear quite a bit inside my head, I can’t really help it, the words just come out when I’m upset or angry. Or even just in the middle of conversation. I’m not as innocent as I seem. (Do I seem innocent? I mean innocent people don’t have problems like I do. Psychopaths aren’t innocent. But I don’t think I’m at that level. Not even a sociopath, which seems like the more interesting of the two. I’m just crazy.)

But you care, don’t you? Otherwise you wouldn’t tell me. You care about how people feel about you but you just haven’t done anything to change it yet. I think you’ve wired yourself a certain way, and it’s the only way you know how to get by, so you push on being the person you think people expect, thinking that the power you can hold by staying that way will keep you happy. But I don’t think it does. I know it doesn’t, from what you’ve written to me.

There is a lot no one knows about me, and I like to keep things private because I don’t really think anyone needs to know these things. I tell you some of these things because you open up to me. It has to work both ways to work at all.

‘Kipper’ will forever be a source of conversation in these letters it seems. I’m not being mean, merely stating a fact, I’m great at fucking up. (Excuse my language.) Talents? Not really, I sing every now and then, but not really for anyone. One time I went out of town to an open mic night and that was nice, but when I got home I realised that nothing would change afterwards. No one I knew was there and I’d done nothing to change myself in the eyes of my peers. But at least, it made me happy.

I was going to have a sibling once, but unfortunately that didn’t go as planned. It was a miscarriage, and it really got my mother down for a while, but she tells me she’s content with just having me. I know she isn’t. They want to adopt, but I don’t know how well it’s going, we’ll see.

I’m more than okay with writing to you. It gives me something to do on the weekends. Sometimes I think I should plan these letters, but they’re always better when I just write and never stop.

Obnoxious people suck too.

If you want to stick by Tex, that’s all your decision, but I think that, by the time we get through a certain amount of letters and we start to discover things about ourselves and each other, that you’ll be able to let her go. Just like you’ll be able to let Red go, if I do anything to help you, then I’m going to help you let go of them. Maybe you should write letters to her or something. Then destroy them, or send them to me and you’ll feel a little more like you’re getting it all out? Because simply telling me about her must not be all that fulfilling. (Although I think what would be really fulfilling for me would be punching her or something...)

Don’t punch her that was stupid advice.

Bubble metaphor is A+.

I think a balance of caring but accepting it and being kind and caring would be good. Just not being where they’re at would be fantastic. I’m sorry... Got a little carried away. I don’t think I will do them, not right now, maybe not ever, but the fact of the matter is, no one believes I’d even try, so they don’t think twice. That was pretty bad advice, don’t worry, I’m not the type to listen.

I don’t know if that’s a good idea just yet, but I’ll take it into consideration, I like Europe, but I wouldn’t know where to stay, what to do. Maybe when we really know each other we can bring that plan back out again.

My dad is a psychologist, actually. He’s not been working for quite a while, but he’s fully qualified. He stopped because he didn’t want to start psycho analysing his own family, and I’m almost sad he did. Almost. Anyone I’ve talked to demeans my problems.

You want to know a story about something that’s been bothering me, okay.

It was a Friday afternoon and I’d just been in the bathroom for a few minutes. I wasn’t actually doing anything, just trying to calm down and not induce another panic attack, splashing water on my face, repeating a mantra in my head over and over, saying it to the mirror, all that kinda stuff.

Then, the door opened. Naturally, I just rushed to a stall, locking it behind me and looked through the cracks, I could only really see hair colours, there was a blonde and a redhead, applying lip gloss or something stupid like that, and that’s when I hear it.

“I bet you she’s not even crazy, she’s just doing it for attention.”

I can’t tell which one is talking, but they don’t stop.

“She’s just a sad loser, that panic attack was way too dramatic, I was telling Piper about it and I don’t think she believed it either. The girl totally acts that way just so people will give her a second glance, she’s just some second rate wannabe anyway. Being mentally unstable and moderately pretty was ever in, and it will never be, it’s just stupid shit directors make up.”

I didn’t really listen to the rest, just waited for them to leave before rushing out, and lo and behold, they were standing right outside when I got out. One of them looked shocked and the other just started laughing. I didn’t go back to school for the rest of that day, I spent it in the little forest right beside campus and listened to my iPod until the battery drained.

I know that those kinds of people don’t matter, and what they say especially doesn’t matter, but it still hurts to have your feelings disregarded completely.

Mermaid clan. Interesting.

I think you might have been trying to be funny, although I’m not sure. That joke was pretty terrible. But I suppose we’re all kind of lost on belief these days, especially considering the world seems to be heading towards crashing and burning. We’re all going to hell anyway, if what is in that book written by women hating men (a.k.a. the bible) is true.

I’m not technically Australian. I wasn’t born there... But my mother was... Y’know, impregnated while they were in Sydney. They flew home a few days after and then they found out she was going to be having a baby. It was interesting. I wasn’t conceived in the back of a car, my mother was. I was conceived on the bed of an expensive hotel in Darling Harbour. She is pretty ditzy, she’s a free spirit I guess, always been pretty happy-go-lucky and up and moving constantly. I love that movie.

You’re welcome. I only ask that it’s done for me in return, and I don’t think that’s too much to ask for, not really. You’ll get better in time, sharing how we feel is hard and the fact that you’re not that good at it isn’t a bad thing, and it’s not your fault either. You’re not the worst person to love, you just don’t seem to think you deserve it, and I can tell you now, you definitely do. Someone is going to love you like you deserve it, but that may take letting all of yourself be shown. Like for example, I could probably love you because I’ve seen what’s underneath the popular girl mask. But there’s just the simple fact of not being absolutely sure of who you are that may get in my way. Just maybe.

I just googled the butterfly project now. It seems good. I don’t self harm usually, but I think I might draw a butterfly on my wrist, not for me, but for you.

You’re not the only one suffering, that’s something I can guarantee.

Sam is one of my favourites in that book, so it’s kind of an hour. I don’t think you mentioned that, but it’s been a little bit since I mentioned it. It’s so good. The only thing about Sam and Charlie is, they love each other, and according to the author, the two of them end up together. I always thought that they would, but having it reassured for me was really good. There’s a movie now, you should go watch it sometime. I can’t give myself advice because I don’t know how to help myself as well as I know how to help others. I don’t know what my problem is. You are helping, somehow, you’re giving me an outlet for my pent up depression.

I don’t know you that well, I make assumptions and guesses and just hope they hit close to home so I can get to know you better, the person inside you that is. I don’t think I’m your clone, I haven’t seen anyone looking like me walking around lately. It’s not creppy, I think it’s interesting, and good. I like that we have some kind of strange almost supernatural connection through only a few letters.

I don’t know, not really. (I’m smart because if I’m not doing anything else I’m studying. I don’t have many lazy days.)

Well thank you Kipper Fakename. I don’t know, I don’t want to be out there, quite liking being in my little bubble. I don’t think I could hate you, knowing what I know. At least now you have me, although I wouldn’t describe myself as decent. Maybe like... Okay. I try to understand you at least.

You’re not pathetic.

I’m not really into any of that, but one or two rappers have music that’s too good for me not to like. I like a bit of everything if I’m honest, I can’t just stick to one genre. But older music and indie rock are the most obvious choices. Okay, tell me when you have.

I just left to go listen to that song because I forgot to, and now I’m sitting beside my laptop while it plays. I like it.

Purple hair. Really. I don’t know if I’d do it any time soon, I’d probably just like, dip dye it or whatever with temporary dye, but it’d be fun, I think. Red is passionate and strong. I like red, but I’m not red. I hate coffee, I know it sounds stupid to dislike it because everyone over the age of sixteen seems to be addicted these days but I’m just not into it I guess. Tea just trumps it in my opinion.

My dad just called me into the room to talk about my grades. Apparently he rung up to check them and one of them dropped to a B. He’s considering taking away my laptop so I can study. I want to finish this letter before I go out and argue with him but I’m fuming. They aren’t definite grades but he wants to try and push me to do better by punishing me for something like that. My mother is out at the moment, but if he decides he’s going to take it, I’m leaving for a bit, I don’t know where I’ll go, probably sit behind someone’s house and go on it, come back in the morning. I’m feeling kind of reckless today, I don’t know why I want to leave. But I do.

You’re welcome, and thank you too.

It’s okay, it’s not weird.

I know you will, you probably want to know like I want to know what actually happened, not what I’ve been told.

I’m so glad that I have someone to guide me through the dark now. I think things just suddenly got easier after I wrote that first letter in reply to yours, and I hope things only go up from there.

- Sidney