Your letter…

Can’t believe it reached me, amid all the busyness (and distractions).

I’m lost for words; I really don’t know what to say.

Perhaps I’m just grateful to know that you’ve been waiting for me.

Don’t mean to hurt you or make you feel neglected.

I mean… I’m not even sure if I’m making sense right now.

These emotions… they’re not that easy to process.

I’m trying my best, and I’m hopeful I can come out okay.

The truth is, it’s embarrassing (there, I said it).

The gods were right. And I admit it, wholeheartedly.

People think that being up here is glamorous.

I don’t understand.

I mean… it has its advantages.

But the drawbacks? People don’t really talk about them.

Or maybe I’m different.

You know me better, right?

You know that I didn’t actually want to be here in the first place.

Maybe for others. Happy for them.

But, but it’s just not for me. Hundred-percent.

Yes, I wanted to fly.

But not at the expense of losing you. No.

When I was a kid, I promised not to follow those miserable grown-ups.

“What a sad life,” I used to say (you were there, you heard it all the time).

But now I understand what probably happened to them.

They didn’t intend to make their lives miserable.

It’s nobody’s dream. It just happened.

They made a decision here and there.

And another one, and another one.

All for the sake of financial security, social norms, pleasing others, prestige, fame, pleasure, and on and on.

Then one day, boom — welcome to your new (very ordinary) life.

I remember one day waking up, feeling empty.

“What have I done?”

I’m slowly undoing everything.

Leaving everything behind…

Ssshhh! Don’t tell anyone.

…

…

…

Love,

The Lost Self