If I show my scars to you, would you like me still ? The tears that I keep hidden.. the feelings that I dont even know I have.. The words that have lost meaning not because I cannot give them structure but I have long forgotten them .. would you still like me?
There are shadows in my life. Shadows that I haven’t talked about with anyone. I am afraid they wont like me then. And it is so important. To be liked. I can lie to myself many times, but how would I believe ?
How do I say why having faith is so hard for me? I have seen dreams crumbling many times, rendered useless by one swipe of hand. How can I then believe in the glorious future that is ‘assured’ for me ?
Then again, if I ever try to explain would you listen my inane ramblings until I find a way to articulate ? How do I explain my inexplicable need to communicate and yet the desperate way I wait for someone to ask the right questions and then to find.. no one ever does.. Do you have patience enough to find the right questions?
Dearest, I am asking you all these because I dont think I can ever ask you in person. So when it happens, if it happens, would you be intuitive enough to see beyond my obvious verbal -garbage and seek for those stuff that I never allude to?
I may never be able to express my need for you to know.. yes know them and then pardon me for all my transgressions. And yet, I would never tell. Would you be interested enough to go through my archives and find this letter? For I may never send it.
I might be tempted to, if you were here. When you are here. So when will you be here?
Winnie the poohi