I miss you.
I miss our school days—when we still had much time to talk and see each other even when we were surviving on a student allowance.
Look at us now. We have the money but we don’t have the time anymore for even a small talk. We only get to know about each other’s life through our status on Facebook, which I barely visit nowadays. I think Twitter is becoming more popular but I don’t intend to be there—140 characters would not be enough to tell you what’s going on in my life. Besides, I want to be more personal with you. I don’t want some generic broadcast of my life to the world to be my means to reach you.
We email each other but our mails have become shorter and shorter. We’re both too busy nowadays. Our hugs have been reduced to asterisks and letters *hugs*. Do you know that a person needs to be hugged at least three times a day? How do we do that? *hugs* *hugs* *hugs*? We promise to write longer, we plan to write more but we have to fight even for the time to do so. When I decide to go back to school once again, I am afraid that whatever little time I have right now to write to you will be taken away.
Showing posts with label mail. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mail. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Friday, March 20, 2009
The Mail
5 a.m. I am sitting across the TV watching a show I barely understand. A letter envelope comes in my mailbox. The sender’s name is blank but the name is my name and the address is my home. I put the TV in mute, anticipating the message of the anonymous sender. I turn the lights on and prepare to read.
The crumple of the envelope as I open it makes a sharp contrast to the silence of my room. My room’s lights stand out in the sea of darkness outside.
The letter says that today is my last day on earth for tonight when I sleep, tomorrow I will wake up no more. Suddenly, my life flashes in front of me.
The smile on my parents’ lips when I was born. My first day in prep school. What’s the name of that boy again who stepped on my foot and made me cry?
I see myself curled up in bed, crying, the first time someone broke my heart.
I see myself waking up at 3 a.m. to answer the call of a friend who got pregnant out of wedlock. That was ten years ago.
I remember that party with friends that was filled with laughter and that birthday celebration with my family.
The end. My failures, my success, my unfulfilled dreams are now just a speck of dust in the air. Irrelevant.
I look at the TV and turn it off. The screen turns black, all the colors reduced to a white dot at the center that in a while will disappear.
The letter is signed: God.
The crumple of the envelope as I open it makes a sharp contrast to the silence of my room. My room’s lights stand out in the sea of darkness outside.
The letter says that today is my last day on earth for tonight when I sleep, tomorrow I will wake up no more. Suddenly, my life flashes in front of me.
The smile on my parents’ lips when I was born. My first day in prep school. What’s the name of that boy again who stepped on my foot and made me cry?
I see myself curled up in bed, crying, the first time someone broke my heart.
I see myself waking up at 3 a.m. to answer the call of a friend who got pregnant out of wedlock. That was ten years ago.
I remember that party with friends that was filled with laughter and that birthday celebration with my family.
The end. My failures, my success, my unfulfilled dreams are now just a speck of dust in the air. Irrelevant.
I look at the TV and turn it off. The screen turns black, all the colors reduced to a white dot at the center that in a while will disappear.
The letter is signed: God.
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