Dear Mr. Sol
I am writing from a very uneventful life again. I am sure you are no longer thrilled receiving my letters. I understand. But please bear with me, I have no one to talk about these things except you.
Things aren’t exciting these days. As life ventures ahead, so are my thoughts. It flows in the air carelessly and hit me back in the face with so much angst I am still unable to get up from my bed. I didn’t know so much free time can affect one’s thoughts and wellbeing.
These thoughts run in my head like a river on a high tide. Have you ever feel like you’re a waste of space? Space is infinite but if you don’t know where you belong, it can be suffocating. People around me already claimed their own spaces but I am still wandering, asking where should I put myself. Any where I try to stand feels like I shouldn’t be standing there.
I wish I can fly. Any where without solid ground is good enough, I think, tho I can’t say. I can’t fly. Humans don’t fly. Maybe that’s why when we see birds we associate it with freedom. They can just flap their wings, land on any trees or cables to rest then fly again.
Maybe not settling is the answer to my question. Be like the birds. Wander, land somewhere to take a rest, then wander again.
But then again birds are born to fly and wander. Humans are made to take their own places on earth.
I wish I was a bird. Or maybe I am in my past life. What do you think?
It must be so nice up there, Mr. Sol. You already knew your place from the very start and now I look up on you from where I am.
From this suffocating world of mine.
Please let me continue to feel your warmth.
Sincerly,










