I Wanted to Write You a Letter

Dear A!

I owe you a lot. For all the things you've done for me since as far as my memory can stretch back. You are an amazing person. I consider myself lucky to have you in my life. Whenever I see you smiling, I naturally get happy. You are an inseparable part of my life and I pray for your eternal happiness.

But sometimes I feel like I’m a liability that has been imposed on you against your will. If 40 out of the 100 things that I do in a day are to make myself happy and satisfied, believe me, the remaining 60 things that I do are for your happiness. And do you know what is it that makes me happy and satisfied? A display of satisfaction on your face!  So basically I've been trying to see you smile, because of me, all my life. When I fail after all my trying and feel like I shouldn't be a part of your life, it makes me want to dig a hole to bury myself in it. I try and inspect the things that’d make you feel proud of me and then I try so hard to achieve it. Of course, all those things make me feel proud of myself too. But it’s always your happiness that I somehow relate to my actions. You get mad on me. Don’t allow me to do things that I don’t see any point in deeming wrong. But, in the end, I always end up thinking that your opinion about what’s in my best interest is weightier than mine. Even after doing all that (which of course is absolutely NOTHING as compared to all that you’ve done for me) when I see you upset, I cannot help but think where did I go wrong. I’d appreciate it if you, instead of keeping it to yourself, would communicate my follies to me so that I’d continue to make myself better. Sometimes, when I accomplish something, I tell that to you too because I think that would make you happy too, but when you don’t seem interested in it, that’s when I think I should just stop being so tacky. I understand everyone needs to rest in their personal sphere that they create for themselves and I’m sorry for all those times when I intruded and disturbed it. Dear A! Do you know what makes us different from robots? The emotions! We can’t control them. Actually, we can.. but to a certain level. And I think we all are living this life to satisfy ourselves. We satisfy ourselves by feeding our basic needs and emotions. And one of the emotions is that of happiness. It gets satisfied when you feed it. No matter you feed it a morsel or something close to a buffet dinner. The point is, you need to keep looking for it. Like, you search for food when you feel hungry. And when after searching, you find nothing but a little candy bar, you eat it just to give that starving stomach of yours a bit of satisfaction. You can never be happy if you don’t want an option of being happy in the list. Happiness, if not inexpensive, is neither unachievable. And your words, your actions, and your reactions can make or break someone’s day. It’s for you to decide how miserable or ecstatic you want to make them feel about them. I've encountered the times when I wanted to apologize to you for just getting into your life to add to your worries. I’m sorry for being an unprecedented part of your otherwise better life.

Nonetheless, I love you. I don’t think I can help it because God has made me so affectionate toward you. But I’d try and make sure that you do not get affected by my nonsense, worthless logic. I just wanted to type it out. Not all the things deserve to keep locked and stored.

Love,

Yusra.

       

Vancany

She is strolling around her room, not knowing what to do with her time. Her stack of unread books lay on the floor, confounded by her unusual behavior of leaving it, untouched. Unaware of the blinking green LED of her phone, indicating that she had missed the calls and hadn't read the texts, she is staring at the plain wall so intensely, that if sight was tangible, it would've pierced through that wall. Why, she’s going to ask herself when she would gain her sanity back, did she start deeming everything so uninteresting? She finally sits on her bed, giving in to the natural human phenomenon of getting tired. Perched on the corner of her bed, with her hands resting in her lap, and her hair loosely held in an-almost ponytail, she displays a picture of an inappropriate youth. Maybe she is bored of the monotony. Maybe she wants to escape from all the drama. Maybe she wants to cease being an actor of this play she had unwittingly taken part in. This play called life. Maybe even though she has a blissful life, there is still a vacant portion that needs to be filled. Maybe that vacant portion has somehow dominated the larger, blissful filled part of her. Like an offspring expresses the recessive trait when the dominant gene is absent. Like the big fluffy clouds hide the even bigger sun and make the afternoon seem like evening. She’s still staring at the wall and not thinking about anything. God knows she is not! I know it because I live inside her. I am her soul. And sometimes I just want to give in anything to come out of her and hug her. To tell her that when there is no other person that can understand her, I am the one who opposes all of them.