Lost In Me...

 You won't read this anyway

What do I want?

I want you to listen. I want you to stay while I talk and explain myself. Then I want you to react and not freeze out on me. Then I want you to promise me whatever I'm going to say won't affect us. Is that too much to ask?

 I know I know, I should be getting back to those letters. Well, let me tell you, dear reader, whoever you are that I only want to write one letter, and it's not even all that easily written. 

To You,

How hard is it for me to tell you I like you? Maybe even love you? Damn it all, I'm just so scared about everything. I'm scared about losing you as a friend. Never mind the hope for something more. This whole confession thing is eating me up inside.

I can't think without it occupying it. Sometimes I just want to pick up my phone and begin texting and sending it over to you just to be done with it, but no, I have to be right and proper and all that shit and do it personally. I won't be making all my mistakes over again. 

Today I had the perfect opportunity. There it was, only the two of us, and my mouth kept shut while my heart was screaming out. Did you know how much I wanted to say it out loud? Did you? Oh god, I swear I just wanted to. I didn't though. Would today have made a difference? I can't know now, can I? It's already passed and we're not going to have that chance again. At least not soon enough, and by then it might be too late.

So, I'm writing this in frustration of today. I can't tell you I want you. God knows I want to. The universe knows I want to as well. They gave me THIS opportunity to say what I really feel, and I blew it. I blew because I wasn't ready to take the risk. I would have had sleepless nights any way you had reacted, but at least that would be over. In this one, I know what I'll dream about: the moment that got away.

I won't even be all in writer mode and wax rhetoric. Not the place to, apparently. Because in this letter, I will be nothing but straight. I like you. Okay. I really really really like you. I won't say I Love You. It's been too overused.

I must be going insane.

I can't do what my friend did. I can't tell you how much I've come to depend on our talks to brighten my day. I can't admit you've once again become my one weakness. I can't do any of that, because I don't have the courage to do so.

I'm a coward. I won't risk something for nothing. In many ways, I could never be sorted into Gryffindor. I'm simply not brave enough. All I have to do is confess how important you are, what we do, to me. Even if they're as mundane as helping you, you have no idea how sane it keeps me. A friend asked me recently if I was happy. You know what I said? I said yes because I have someone like you to calm me down, keep me random and keep me living.

I'm cunning. I won't tell you why I keep asking if you have a boyfriend or someone special. I won't even ask if I could fill that position. Words would never be enough anyway, so I do what I can, not out of forced duty but because I want to. I've grown less and less concerned about my life - the way I see it, I can only live through others.

I'm selfish. I want you for myself. That's why I so want to punch someone in the face. It's not because he pisses me off. It's because he makes it hard for me to be around you. He makes life hard for you too, I suppose.

I won't be brave. My friend posted a note on facebook and tagged the girl in question. Meanwhile, I'm hiding here where no one will ever find me. No one will read this in time. Because I don't want them to see me like this. I'm breaking apart. Because of you.

I'm a snake. I'm a liar. I can't be forward. I was never a lion. 

I Love You.

I don't know when I'll exactly come back with those letters, since I'm busy with another (almost completed) writing project.

The decade that's about to end is so significant, since it represents a majority of the chunk of memories I actively cycle through as I write - my triggers, so to speak. As it ends, I feel like I'm saying farewell to a fond friend who hasn't always been good to me, to be perfectly honest it's almost exclusively bad, these memories I draw from, but I digress.

Focusing on the year that passed, boy what a year this has been. I can't say I've had more fun any year before this. Forgetting all the bad stuff that has happened, this is without a doubt the best year I've had in a long while.

We saw a new president take the reins, and while I acknowledge his right to be there, I am still remiss to approve of him because he has yet to do something I find worthy of my acceptance of his rule, which I can say because I honestly did not vote for him, nor did I want him to win, but again I digress.

We saw crisis after crisis come our way and we have waded through them as a nation as clumsily and as awkwardly as we could. These debacles only contribute to our steadily devaluation in the eyes of the global community.

Yet, we still stand, thankfully, as a nation that has not yet fallen into chaos and total disorder and I suppose that is a miracle onto itself.

Personally, I loved 2010. Sure, there were very low points, but overall, I can't blame anyone but me; I only had the year I wanted to have. If I wanted to wallow in sorrow then the year would have reflected that, but I decided I would have fun towards the end. There was a lot of reconnecting done, and I found joys in the past, even if it was fleeting at most.

Wisdom gained this year? I'm not particularly sure. Of course there's always something learned as we continue our journey called life, but this year I'm not as confident as before that I actually learned something I didn't already know before, safe to say I did hypothesis testing and found that there are theories I put forward that were absolutely true, some absolutely false and some teeter-tottering on the gray hazy area between complete truth and total lie.

There's a lot of things I wanted to change this year, no doubt about that, but there are things we just have to go through. I'm not even sure I should be a bit thankful I went through it now rather than later, but all the same, things happen.

SO here's to a wonderful decade that'll pass us by tonight, and here's to a new one - may 2011 be as happier, if not more than, 2010!!!

 I know I know, I should be working on my 30 letters. Don't worry, I'll be back as soon as I begin my Christmas holiday.

SO, what am I doing here If I'm not back to specifically post a letter, because, let's face it, that's pretty much the only reason I'd have for returning to this old and forgotten place.

I am here to rant and rant and rant. Feel free to stop reading if you want to.

( Click here to read rant )

 A/n: This is a rare occurrence. I'm naming the person I'm writing to, because this is someone I think a few people will meet. Or maybe none at all. 

Dear Santa Claus,

First of all, the whole "Santa Claus is coming to town" bit is kind of scary. I think you'd rank up there with Big Brother if you weren't so jovial and jolly. So maybe you can ease off all that making lists and checking them twice? I'm just sayin'.

Second, you rock. Your time management skills on Christmas Eve is splendid. How can you actually hit all those houses, and even those without chimneys? You still make sure you deliver. You could build your own delivery empire. You'd rake in millions, then maybe you could modernize those factories up north, eh? Maybe you can have one of those tropical villas when summer holidays come in and the Easter Bunny takes over the delivery service.

Say, how are those reindeer of yours? Are they all ready? One would think those reindeer might be the most overworked creatures as they have to round the world faster than most commercial jets can go. Amazing, those creatures of yours, if it wasn't so terribly bothersome, I'd want to borrow one semi-permanently.

Anyhow, since the time of the year is nearing, I wish you the best of luck. Maybe next time, you can come in a bit later and we can talk over milk and cookies. That would make for a nice Christmas story, don't you think?

Truly Yours,

Hector

A/N: This is my take on someone I actually want to meet. SO THERE. MERRY CHRISTMAS PEOPLE!!!!! 

A/N: Let's contextualize: I define an internet friend as someone who I usually talk to on the net, and as it so happens, I have one I can easily write a letter to.

Dear you,

I cherish our conversations. Every time we talk, I know pretty much what to expect but I end up contradicting myself because you totally shatter my expectations. It's like you keep me guessing every time. I don't know what happens, and that makes it all kind of fun.

To be honest, this seems like a cheat. You're an online friend and a real friend as well. Real in the sense we can talk outside the net, but I digress. Our conversations in the net seem to make more sense than our real-time chats and that's what makes you my favorite internet friend. There's something terribly exciting in knowing we can talk, just the two of us, without having the complications of a real conversation (being overheard, being talked about and whatnot) which given my infamy, as it is, is simply unavoidable.

I'm not really in a thankful mood, so I'll keep this mercifully short. Thanks for being there and being one of my true friends. Even if we can't have these conversations in the comfort of reality, it's comforting to know cyberspace is a realm where free ideas still flow with nary a hint of malice.

Truly Yours,

Hector

 A/N: This should prove interesting as I won't highlight which one I choose to write to. 

Dear you,

I liked you. Emphasis on liked. Past tense. Over. Kaput. Nil. Done. It sounds like I'm convincing myself right? Maybe so, but I don't intend on letting you find out. Not now after you broke my heart into a million tiny pieces, and stabbed me with it.

I can't bring myself to hate you. Do you know why? Because I still hold you in some regard. Damn me and my sensibilities. I could never get to the point where the love turns to hate. I still don't forgive you though, for what you did. Reading something that was private in public, misconstruing my symbols. Then there was that stupid Christmas gift. I spent a lot of money, for nothing. Nothing but ridicule. 

Thinking about everything that happened that year just makes me wish that year ended quicker. I was happy in a way that it all ended with nary a goodbye, because there was no welcome to begin with. No hello, no nothing. I'm sorry I'm not good enough. I'm sorry you had SOO high a standard. I'm not bitter, but I'm sorry I'm not for you.

I still don't think though that anything that happened could have happened any other way. You were meant to break me. You were meant to make fun of me. You were meant to harden me up for the future, and I can't hate you for that. I just wish we had a moment where I didn't constantly irritate you. Sure, we talked a year after, but I still didn't feel that want to even become friends.

Now, if I met you, I wouldn't know what to say, what to talk about. I'd probably ask nonchalant questions and evade the nastier ones because that's who I am. If you decide to ask those questions, then that's who YOU are. Doesn't mean I want to meet you anytime soon to chit chat though. Just saying I'm still going to be nice, even if you decide to play the mean bitch you were in high school. Just thought you might like to know.

Truly Yours,

Hector

A/N: Quick note. I already did something like this before, but that was high school. I'd like to think my thoughts have become deeper and more focused since then.

Dear Stranger,

First things first, isn't it odd how you're receiving a letter from someone you've never even met? You must be thinking what made you so special that someone just had to write a letter all for you, aren't you? I think if it wasn't for the challenge, you'd never even see a part of this letter, but as it is, stick around for a while and I might prove myself a good read.

Who are you receiving this letter from, you ask? None other than me, the infamous (self-titled) prince of darkness. I say infamous because I've never made my way out of the spotlight no matter how much I try to deny it. I'm not some popular kid or a poser, but my infamy always precedes me and I think will continue to do so for a long time. You are receiving a letter from a person whose realities are stuck in the realm of dreams. You are receiving a letter from someone who wants nothing more than to have a share in the limelight, not have it on me for all the wrong reasons.

Stranger, my letter may seem odd, but bear with me. You see, you are receiving a letter from someone who has done so much in so many things with so many people that to tell them all would be a waste of both our time. I could tell you how our 3rd year section swept all competitions except a few, how we were held in contempt for a crime we didn't commit and made our way into high school history. I could tell you how my first year seems like a blur except when people trigger it for me, then it brings back all these memories. I could tell you how I spent more time on stage in fourth year and practicing plays and operas and musicals and having fun instead of focusing in class. I could tell you about the time when I FINALLY won a carolfest after four years, with a religious song at that. I could tell you about that teacher from hell that cost me my medal. I could tell you how I tested my way into a course I don't really like. I could tell you about all the people I've met along the way. I could tell you about how fun and sad it is to be me. 

There's a lot of things I could tell you. Bits and snippets here to keep you interested enough to keep reading what is, essentially, the ramblings of a 20-year old man who is so frustrated with the world. I could also tell you the number of heartbreaks I've had. I know that heartbreaks are a part of life, but it doesn't have to come as often, right? I could tell you how much I love a girl I essentially can't have, how much pain it causes me to be her friend, how much torment I endure when she breaks up with someone and I have to comfort her but I can't say "why not me?" without making things awkward. I could tell you how much of a coward I am. 

What IS the point of this letter if I'm not telling you anything, right? You'd want to know more than the awards, more than the awkward phases of my life, more than the time I spent on stage having fun and being carefree, more than the poems I've written and been ridiculed for, more than the moments that makes me laugh and cry, sometimes at the same time. You'd want to know more than that, since you've read this far. I'm sorry then. That's all I can say, since anything else would be words better left unsaid.

Stranger, I don't know how this letter ended up in your hands, and I'm not happy for you. There are a lot of holes in my story, and I won't fill them for you. Because I don't think you'd want to know. It's better you see one side and a little of the other. Trust me.

Truly Yours,

Hector

A/N: I totally forgot! damn. anyway, I'll be doing two letters today in lieu of missing one day, so it'll be normalized, I think. without further ado

Dear Dreams,

Seeing as I can't remember you perfectly after 30 minutes, I don't know exactly what to tell you. I can only remember bits and pieces and I have to tell you as a friend that you freak me out. True, it has a lot to do with MY own imaginations, but you play them out in ways I don't even think is possible. Still, it is terribly fun if you consider these realities, however superficial they are.

But why does it seem like the fleeting moments are the most important? Can't you show me something important in the middle of the dream where I can still recall them, not the incomplete and frayed edges where my consciousness decides your turn is over? It's at the end you make things interesting. You know how infuriating that is? For example, you set up a romantic scene then you cut out to reality before I find out the end of it. I get that you're trying to tell me to get a move on and end my own story my own way, but maybe a little heads up would be nice, right? What if I went out and told you a story and then cut it when it's just getting good? How would YOU feel? Right, exactly like that.

Anyway, you're an essential tool for me, thank you. When one can still dream, one can still hope, and with that hope comes optimism, and even if I become the most cynical negative person, I know I can still dream because I have that sliver of hope which my dreams give me. It sounds circular, but what isn't when you're considering the realm of infinite possibilities and boundless permutations?

It's just freaky sometimes you give me a glimpse of future events and give me deja vu moments but 'tis all right. haha. I like those moments. 

Here's to meeting you again tonight!

With Love,

Hector