The Unsent Letter (inside the internet’s bottle)


(Image by OpenClips/

(Image by OpenClips/

To whom it may concern:

This life I have to deal without you is something that needs a continuous conceptualization on my part. For I have never imagined processing every single day in the absence of you. Eliminating all distractions, including unclear random affairs paves way to an obvious apparent objection of my mind against the crippling untoward suggestions of my heart proves to be an insurmountable burden. Although I have particularly distinguished the opposition between the two, I cannot entirely depend on my brain from blocking thoughts of you. I have, uncovered the limitations of my resilience when faced with any type of news or image of you. My mind goes haywire. Everything shuts down. There is always this inevitable pull to go back to you. From time to time, accidental typo error of your name appears on my screen. It’s hard not to maintain a persistent level of consciousness. Of course I would wonder how you are or what you’re doing. Before I entertain the image of you neatly tucked in bed with someone else, I block you off. Shut down. It’s an internal process that I have been trying to perfect. I cannot run away from you and I do not intend to. However, if we ever meet again, I would not know how to make a proper approach. So, I apologize if I simply choose to stand there and watch you walk hand in hand with your significant other. Yes, there will always be somebody else with you because they are fully aware how intricate and wonderful you are. Everyone always seems to notice.

If only I could keep you a secret, but then, how rude of me to deprive the world of your beauty. There is splendor rooted deep in your soul which significantly beams on the surface. I know you don’t believe me because you have a natural inclination on the pessimistic, like how I am naturally drawn to you. You are human and I understand your loathing. I admire the way you are. You’re flaws are the tiny treasures hidden. You’re the person that can drive me to the extremes. We aren’t made to feel the ordinary. For some we are lunatics, crazy in their eyes. Like the vengeful angel with a kindred heart threading between reality and numerous fantasies in a graceful notion of our bodies. With you, I have episodes of being enthralled. When we argue, I dive to this conscious numbness from logic. You are none compared. Seeing you scares me because I can’t afford to lose my mind. That unknowing sensible part of me is deranged from waiting for yet another colossal encounter. Congratulations, for you, have always been my repertoire of madness. You gave birth to the creation of my repository to the sound of unending perpetual yearning. Or was it me? Through the years I am unable to distinguish your face as my constant nightmare or rather repressed memories. In which I can vaguely identify as happiness. Where are you? Devotion is but a timid coy word to express how much I feel for you. I’m afraid it is in itself a shortcoming. I miss you. I love you. That’s just simply putting it.

But, I could never let my guard down. So I’ll be here at the impalpable corner, hoping that I’d never catch your mystic eyes. The very moment you look away, I’ll grab the opportunity to sneak a peaceful surrender out of this treacherous room.



Former Truth