A Letter to You

Dear You,

I am cuddled up under my warm blanket, feeling happy and content with life, exactly like you want me to be. For a moment there, I think about checking my phone, but I don’t, I shouldn’t do it. I shouldn’t not be happy. You wouldn’t want me to. You want me to love this place, and truth is I have grown to do so. You know what else I have grown to do? Take those emotions you don’t want me to feel (homesickness, sadness etc) and throw them away. I’m sorry, though, because sometimes I can’t help but drown in these feelings. I stare at empty phone screens waiting to hear a soundless ring from someone who never calls. This happens only for a moment, don’t you worry! After that brief moment, I continue wearing a frozen smile gifted to me the day before I left.

As the months slowly go by, I find it harder and harder to stick that smile on my face. Now, I even stare at the ceiling wondering if, at least, it gives a damn about how I’m doing (it turns out it doesn’t by the way). It is my mistake to wait for phones that never ring, but what can I say; I still have hope, even when there’s not any. I find comfort in pretending; pretending I am happy, pretending people care… It’s alright, don’t worry. I’m alright, don’t worry. Pretense has become a part of my daily routine.

The only thing I need to do is realize that some people, even those you love, will not care.

Anyway, I’ve realized now how pointless this letter is because you’ll never read it, but it’s okay. If you find it somehow, someday then please think about all the times I’ve smiled at you, and try to figure out how many times my smile was an effortless one and how many times it was just a replica of one. Now that I think about it, though, you wouldn’t even care either way.

See you soon,


P.S.: Look for the smile, pretend you care.

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