doingitagain
05-29-2011, 12:11 AM
This is literally my 1st post on this site; I registered 2 minutes ago. The inspiration for this piece was a postmarked letter with no return address. Here it is:
The envelope. Formally written, but informally left without a return address. The formality of etiquette gave way to a personal message for Tricia.
She had found it on her room's desk. Like all young kids, she had one million things to do before she died tomorrow, but for the next five minutes, she decided, the email, the iChats and the texts could wait while she read a postmarked letter.
Her backpack fell to the floor as she stood by the desk, over the letter. She picked it up and turned it over; nothing on the back. To open it, she held the letter to her room's light and ripped the width open. The trash fell to the floor. As the letter unfolded, she noticed the back of the wide ruled paper was blank; the letter couldn't be more than thirty-three lines long.
"Tricia," she read, in a handwritten print that could be a font, "how are you, sweetheart?" As the first line was read mentally, she turned to her left and inched backwards to sit on her bed. "The times, and right now for you personally, are an exciting time. From where I'm from, we didn't have so much to get involved with. Maybe now you realize that with trying to succeed, come failure; that by hacing one thing, you don't have its other, and that's where your brothers' talk stops. The Dao, as he explains, explains existence, but just with what I know I'm going to tell you how to deal with that existence. Being honest and putting yourself out there leaves you vulnerable, and this world will have you thinking it's bad, but love never is. You see, destiny and fate don't exist. Merciful God in heaven wouldn't make people prostitutes, addicts or homeless before they had a choice. Some lived hard lives, but they also gave into those sad facts. Love, but control your emotions. The world will not end tomorrow, and if it does, you can't stop it. Your day, your life, even though you can't control half of it, is made by you. You may be more talented in one area than another, but what you become is not decided. Others sit around waiting for chances, but some make them, some find them. All in all, learn through books and the streets. Love fully those who believe in you. You can't control others, just yourself. Believe in yourself, because no one knows what you do. Once you find your pupose, make the decisions that will help it. I love you."
She reread it once, and even though the tone was not lost on her, only a few parts struck a chord with her. She folded the letter in reverse opening order, and slid it back inside the envelope. Staring at it as if its secrets would pop out, she took a few breaths and put the envelope in her desk's top drawer. Tricia purposefully reached for her cell phone as she started her afternoon.
The envelope. Formally written, but informally left without a return address. The formality of etiquette gave way to a personal message for Tricia.
She had found it on her room's desk. Like all young kids, she had one million things to do before she died tomorrow, but for the next five minutes, she decided, the email, the iChats and the texts could wait while she read a postmarked letter.
Her backpack fell to the floor as she stood by the desk, over the letter. She picked it up and turned it over; nothing on the back. To open it, she held the letter to her room's light and ripped the width open. The trash fell to the floor. As the letter unfolded, she noticed the back of the wide ruled paper was blank; the letter couldn't be more than thirty-three lines long.
"Tricia," she read, in a handwritten print that could be a font, "how are you, sweetheart?" As the first line was read mentally, she turned to her left and inched backwards to sit on her bed. "The times, and right now for you personally, are an exciting time. From where I'm from, we didn't have so much to get involved with. Maybe now you realize that with trying to succeed, come failure; that by hacing one thing, you don't have its other, and that's where your brothers' talk stops. The Dao, as he explains, explains existence, but just with what I know I'm going to tell you how to deal with that existence. Being honest and putting yourself out there leaves you vulnerable, and this world will have you thinking it's bad, but love never is. You see, destiny and fate don't exist. Merciful God in heaven wouldn't make people prostitutes, addicts or homeless before they had a choice. Some lived hard lives, but they also gave into those sad facts. Love, but control your emotions. The world will not end tomorrow, and if it does, you can't stop it. Your day, your life, even though you can't control half of it, is made by you. You may be more talented in one area than another, but what you become is not decided. Others sit around waiting for chances, but some make them, some find them. All in all, learn through books and the streets. Love fully those who believe in you. You can't control others, just yourself. Believe in yourself, because no one knows what you do. Once you find your pupose, make the decisions that will help it. I love you."
She reread it once, and even though the tone was not lost on her, only a few parts struck a chord with her. She folded the letter in reverse opening order, and slid it back inside the envelope. Staring at it as if its secrets would pop out, she took a few breaths and put the envelope in her desk's top drawer. Tricia purposefully reached for her cell phone as she started her afternoon.