It's important to click this first, and play the audio.

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Dear Stranger,


You might be wondering why you received this. Tell you what, stranger, I am wondering why I am sending you this also. It's my first time to write to somebody I don't even know. It, too, is my first time to write a letter and send it via snail mail.

Pardon my handwriting, stranger. You may throw this if you want.

I just wanted to vent my feelings out.I have a lot of friends to talk to. I could even post my feelings to the internet.

I am writing this with a heavy feeling. The reason of writing this to you? I don't know. I just felt that I should do something new. I just felt that I should have new eyes, new ears, and new heart to vent my feelings with, to share it.

You might be mad, but please, don't be mad at me. You may feel the I am just tripping on you, but I am pretty serious about this. You can say that I am mad. I guess I have gone mad. I mean, who would even write a long letter, seal it in an envelope, place a stamp on it, and drop it to a post office? I may be mad. No. I am mad. I've gone mad from something devastating.

As I have said, I am writing this with a heavy heart. I feel torn, miserable, desperate.

The people around me adore me, praise me. (I didn't mean to brag, stranger.) The people around me tell me all the positive things that you could think of in this world. Yes, I still get rude criticisms, but I think I've got a unique ability to just absorb them all. People around me say that I am beautifl, intelligent, nice, spontaneous, fun to be with, exciting and all, each and every day of my life.

I think, I have absorbed those things that they say too well, but I still do my best to keep my feet stuck on the ground. I, too, perfectly know my flaws. I am able to accept most of it, but I kept a promise to my self that I would never change any of it. I wouldn't want to change for the reason of wanting to be loved for who I am and who I am not.

{By the way, stranger, this is going to be long. Maybe you have thrown this piece of rubbish by now. If you're still keeping up, well, thank you.}

Going back, people tell me a lot of good things. Maybe due to my huge ego, I have come to recognize myself. Also, maybe due to my huge ego,  I have over-recognized myself. Maybe, just like you, I have become a stranger to myself.

I feel so lonely, stranger.

I feel sad knowing that the person I care about the most doesn't feel the same. I have gone nute thinking of the reasons why he wouldn't want me. I have searched through my mind, my heart, and my soul what is in me or what is not in me.

I don't mean to brag again, stranger, but everybody loves me. Nobody broke my heart as bad as this. I don't understand, stranger. I am just like you who doesn't understand why I'm writing this to you.

Don't you understand a lot of things too, stranger? Isn't it funny that we live our lives thinking that we have the right directions ans paths to take; Or rather, isn't it funny that we have planned courses of action to do every single day of our lives, when as a matter of fact, we are all just lost souls wandering around this small space called Planet Earth.

Am I driving you nuts yet, stranger? Have you stopped reading?

I feel so lonely, stranger. I have spent a year of rejecting, hurting a lot of people who wants to take a touch of my life. I was so picky. No, I guess I am not picky. In fact, I have chosen a person, the only man I wanted to hold hands with. I have chosen to love somebody for more than a year now. I was waiting for him to recognize me. He would notice me, but in different ways. Only those times that he would care talking to me are the times that I consider bliss. Those are the times where I have the sweetest, widest smile in my face. It's like, every time I talk to him, I feel a sudden urge to know more about him. I feel the need to care for him, to shower him with all the good things that I can do.

Unfortunately, stranger, it was all impossible. Every time I would feel to spill all my feelings out, he would always have somebody else to spend his time with. And there is just me, waiting for the right timing to let it all out; wishing, wishing that I was the person he'd love to have late night talks with.

I feel miserable, stranger. Why can't he see me the way that he sees other girls? Maybe, I am lucky that he doesn't see me that way too.

Are you still there, stranger?

Sometimes, I think I chose the wrong person to love. I think that maybe, I am being punished for pushing people away. Maybe this is my punishment for being too full of myself.

But, tell you what, stranger. I had the guts to fire this love gun that I have been holding. I told him how I felt. I composed a very long, meaningful message with all my heart and guts.

But, I was rejected.

Tell you what again, stranger. I think I'm halfheartedly happy about it. I felt like I was able to get off from a chain that had been holding me for a decade. I feel light, and free somehow. I have no regrets, and that is what is living is about: No regrets.

So, there, stranger. It's almost done now. If you have come to read until this page, I am thank you with a smile painted on my face.


I wish you to be happy in life.




Always,
Another stranger.

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