Love Letters Part 1

It sucks to have a bloggers block.When I sit down in front of the terminal,type a few words,that turned into a few paragraphs and then inching my fingers to the delete button and just letting it rip.Yes,I’ve been doing that for the past few nights.Nothing inspiring has been happening.

Let me see,two night ago,I opened up my cupboard and took out a box.This small little box was filled with letters,cards and notes.They were not mine though.They were actually given to me by my ex girlfriend.I forgot why she gave me that box of mementos in the first place and yes I am as clueless as to why I still have it with me,even though we are both well settled down in marriages.But that is besides the point.The point was,I took the liberty to take out the letters and read them piece by piece.Maybe it was intrusion of privacy,but then again 10 years of non claimant will certainly render the box as public property right.Well,whatever it is,I found the box to be a treasure of penned memories filled with the innuendos of growing adolescent years when going steady was the sole motivation for going to school.I read with amusement of the courtship letters written down.From the downright cheeky to the totally blasphemous.There was this one letter penned by a guy who,obviously had the hots for my ex girlfriend,in which he blatantly asked to be married to him in the future.Or how about the ultimate “jiwang” letter written by an ex boyfriend of hers.Things like,”You will be the only woman in my life…without you my life is meaningless…”It was damn hilarious.

I think the reason as to why it was so hilarious was because I realized introspectively that I had taken the same route before.Of writing heartfelt letters that will make my English teacher extremely proud of me.It was then that I proceeded to open up my own box of letters.Yes,I still keep all my letters and pictures.I do not know why.Sentimental value or whatsoever,but I honestly cannot be the hands that throw any single one of them away.I appreciate the value and effort of every single penned letter.I may not have ended up with any of them,but they have made significant impact on me.Anyway,I have two filled boxes.Letters that I received and letters that I had written,but never did send.Haha.I took out the box filled with unsent letters and I smiled silently to myself.I was the proverbial romantic writer.I cannot believe I wrote those letters.Wahahaha.There was one where I wrote as an applicant,in resume styled format for the position of soul mate.There was one where I wrote 3 pages of words explaining what God wanted love to be.Then there were self made cards with heart motifs all over.There were so many letters for so many people.In my younger days,I did write a lot I guess.I had to scan through the archives of memories to recall who the recipient was supposed to be.But I know one thing though.My letters were always for unrequited love.That is why I wrote so much.It was perhaps my pleas  of hope.Heh.I made a promise to myself that one of these days,I’m just gonna take the painful pleasure of scanning the letters one by one.If I ever manage to write an autobiography,it will perhaps shed some light as to the person I was in my teenage years.Waahaha.Naive and totally reserved.

While scrummaging through the wreckage,I got hold of 5 copies of printed conversations on the MSNs.I looked at the date,and it was way back in 2000.I then remembered that back then,I was working as a library officer in the now demolished National Library up at Stamford Road.Guess that my job did not require me to do a lot of things as I had time to chat.So I read the printed excerpts and I could not help but laugh.It was a conversation with my then online girlfriend,of 16 years old(back then).She was an Arab living in New York.It was funny to read back the conversation because it was filled with all sorta things.From movies to songs,to boxers and lingeries,to religion and marriages and to that elusive plan of meeting up.How sweet those  days were…wahaha.I recalled with glee just how I loved to log on at night,just to catch her time zone.When she was at school or doing her Chemistry homework at home,I’ll be online with her.When she just finished her dinner of stuffed pizzas,I’ll be working in the library.Throughout Christmas and Ramadhan we chatted.When it snowed over at her place in the winter,she described the forming flakes.When I made a successful substitute debut in my Islandwide league,I related to her.I called her Rose,and she called me Jack of the Titanic fame.Waahahaha.And there was this particular game we loved to play,long before Facebook or Friendster existed.It improved our imagination.It goes something like this…

Me: I just got back home…

Her: I’m in the kitchen,delighted to see you…

Me: Putting my bag down,I walked up to you and give you a warm hug of missing you…

Her: Responding with a peck on the cheek,I commented how your blue tie looked nice with that blue shirt…

…you get my drift?Hehehehe.It was a poor man’s version/attempt at cybersex without the proverbial vulgarities.Oh,we never did go up to that notch.

Simple things like,”Which colored blouse should I wear?Red or green?””were atypical of a daily converse.For a year,we were a daily staple of each other’s life.That was until I did not have Internet connection at home and all communication was lost.Thing was…she did leave me a name and her address.

Noora Alwira.

And you know what?It did not strike me all these years,if that name and address were fakes,knowing just how surreal online people are.So as I read through the address and her given name,in the printed text,where she requested me to come over if I had the opportunity,a thought came to my mind.”Was all that for real?”So I did what any normal man wold have the sense to do all these years.I Googled her name…

And there it was,brazenly displayed.

Noora Alwira.With the same exact address.On Facebook.Shit!!!!!!!

So I did the next best thing possible.I bought a two way return ticket to New York!Of course not!Hahaha!I send an email on her profile.And here I am waiting for a reply.

“If you are Noora Alwira whose birthday falls on the 8th of October,please just drop me a hi!”,was my email text.But am so sure it’s her.Cause,in the whole realm of Google,there was only one specific hit on all details I have of her.By the default of Google.

So why the hell am I just having a sense of silent anticipation?It’s just to highlight how small the world is.Separated by lands yet so near by communication.Waahahaha.Well,of course there is no romantic escapades for me to relive as I am realistic enough to know the stature of such implications.I’m just thrilled with the knowledge that a figure of my teenagehood is well real and breathing.There indeed is a person existing who chatted with me eons ago.She must be 24 years old now,perhaps married to a Libyan guy or something with three kids.I’m just happy with the small notion of good memories.Reminds me of that movie called “The Lakehouse”.

I told my wife about my intention of blogging about love letters,and she gave me a long lecture.Hahaha.She had read through some of my letters and had chided me for being childish and immature and so forth.I nodded my head in agreement as she lectured.Hahaha.She has a point.Whilst she was doing serious studies in JC,there I was,studying the affairs of life with my constant letter writings.I was childish and immature,but damn did I enjoy my life then.

It’s so easy for me to say this,but the truth is,I am really my honest self when I’m writing my letters.Perhaps there were individuals in my life who understood this facet of my life.I have to write.It came to that defining moment once when,someone just thanked me for the letters that I had written to her.Because as she admitted,I was the only person/man who took the trouble and effort to constantly write her a letter,despite her constant rejections of my advances,I appreciated that honest comment.At least in that small insignificant manner of expression,I had briefly made a difference.

My letters are my legacy.It provides a window of insight into my past.Who I was,and who I could have been.It jolts and serves as a timely reminder every now and then on the temporary nature of life.the promises and commitments made can be changed in a full degree with the natural effect of constant change.People you once loved have moved on and lead their lives.People you once needed are now but fleeting memories.If memories are defined for my personal viewing,letters are penned for the lives I leave behind.There is a lesson behind every story.

There is an individual behind every love letter.

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