I hope you all are fighting fit. I hope that the drug called ‘words’ has kept all of you intoxicated enough, so that the outer world is a mere phantasm. The only thing left is the ever so pressing need to fulfill the perennial cycle of our thoughts to words.
I hope that the Fidelity of these silent words help you sail through anything in life.
Through this letter I implore you. To write. To write Till this earth is revolving and the sun is rising. Write till there is air in your lungs. Write for the rainbows glowing in your soul
And kiss the bougainvillea growing on your limbs.
Write because your thoughts are like fireworks; ready to burst on the paper.
Write even on days you feel drained and lethargic.
Write even when the daemons under your bed trouble you and render you sleepless.
Write even when you think you can’t.
You need to tell yourself
That it is okay
It is okay to be flawed
It is okay not to be perfect
You need to tell yourself that it is okay to be sensitive
It is okay to bruise easier and
It is okay to have anxiety and the demons in your head
You don’t have to live their version of life
You don’t have to conform to their realities and standards of strength and weakness
You make your own self
You make your own reality
You make your own truth
And you profess it and live it with pride
You have a whole world inside you
Or maybe you are a world in itself
You are the cosmic energy of the universe
You are stardust and divine light
There is none like you
You have to accept the thorns on your body along with the flowers
You need to run to yourself
Embrace it like a long lost lover
Kiss every scar on your weary soul
And wear them with pride.
I implore you to write while you still can.