It was late autumn and this time of year usually left her feeling a bit shaky for no specific reason. Her heart, lungs and head are all heavier come November and she could never really explain it. She picked up her book, and looked out the window; she finally has a desk with a view; a good view and a vintage writing desk and jazz in the background.

“I don’t know how to begin to explain this,” she thinks, “but I feel the need to let it out.” And so she begins writing it all on a sheet of paper that she would most probably throw away, or put in a time capsule for her to revisit in ten years. That is always a good idea.

The first time I saw this man, we were on a farm somewhere not very far from home – but for him, it was a land so foreign. I don’t remember how we were introduced, I was busy and tired but I remember taking his number right before leaving, I remember telling him that we’ll be best friends since we both smoke and I thought to myself “something usually happens when I say that,” but then I thought “don’t be silly.” And that was that.

I remember wanting to go back with him in the car…then, a week or so later, we started to become friends. This is when we started talking a lot and laughing and giggling and going out for lunch. One day, he carried me like a doll and spun me round and round and round.

I hugged him once and he kissed my arm. For his birthday, I baked a cake and we watched a film. It was a sad film and he put his arms around me and I lay my head on his shoulder – comfortably. There was so much comfort between us, but like all good things, it was time for one of us to leave. He never was to me and I never was to him. I sometimes think about how it would have been but tell myself that it’s okay now the way it is.

Dear Future Self,

I write you this today to remind you. Hoping you would remember the details from my very short letter, if you ever have children, tell them your stories; teach them something. Tell them not to be scared to exist. Tell them to shout and yell and stomp, tell them to exist loudly – they are here, tell them not to be shy about it. They owe people nothing. Tell them; tell them because you owe it to them.

Dear Future Self,

If in ten years you wonder how he is, call him and ask how he is, he was your good friend, and he was there for you.


You from a few years ago

She looks out the window - as she always does after waking up, after finishing a meal or right after writing something – and it was raining. This was the first rain of the season and she sighed. A sign of a heavy heart, she thought, but her heart wasn’t heavy. It is just that, during the time of year, the sun burnt differently, the light shone differently, and the air, the air felt different in her lungs. A bit purer, maybe? She was never sure, but what she was sure of was that it made her want to take a deep breath, leaving her under the impression that she wasn’t breathing properly. It made her want to stop, close her eyes and take a deep breath, but she knew, anyway, that never changed a thing. She had a tendency towards being a heavy-hearted person, what made her feel better about it was the inkling that these are the same people with kindred spirits.

She gets up slowly, absorbing the high ceilings and big windows in the room, she loved this room. Her eyes lit up as she thought of herself some ten years back, dreaming of finding a similar room to call hers and thought to herself:

Oh, life.