Letters to Celisen, May 21 2017

Dear C;

Over the past few weeks I haven’t heard from you. I’m sure that is a reason of each of our well being, which points to neither of us actually having the need to call upon each other. I actually find it rather relaxing that the only way to reach out to you is by the old fashioned letter written in solitude, ¬†in spite of the hundreds of other ways available at our disposal to impede the sanctity of one’s time.

I write to you today not because I am devoid of anything worthwhile to do, I write because I have a lot on my hands but nothing on my mind. Things have spiralled downwards into a point where my focus is calm, surrounded with a whirlwind of other matters. And when I’m calm, I am reminded of you.

It’s pretty evident from our exchanges that I need you more ever than you need me, and despite anything going on in your life you always seem to manage a few words for me. That, inexplicably is probably the best thing anyone has ever done for me, and as I’ve shared before, the fact that neither of us needs each other’s pings regularly seems to keep what we have sacred.

I have been pretty conflicted about what is going to come and how do I prepare myself for it, as you very well know. Every night I look to share my worries with you but never managed to jot it all down, maybe I needed a larger than usual piece of quietly disquiet to finally pick up the pen. Have you ever been in a situation where your clutch achievement is in sight, your destined journey about to begin, and you stand on your doorstep wondering whether all your past penance and future forethought remains valid? I feel like Bilbo Baggins at 50.

The past seems irrelevant, even though I cannot possibly forget it’s role in the development I have had. The future seems insurmountable, though it may be an illusion. It would be rather unfair to say I’m torn physically, but mentally it sure is stretching away on my core.

However difficult it may seem, I need your voice. I know that gnawing away my days and nights will offer no solution, but as we all know it, us humans are more prone to worry rather than freedom – we look out for agony like the sea reaches out for the shore.

I apologize for going on about my own state, for you must have your own things going on. I don’t think I can ever put in words my gratitude I have for you. And if ever do you need (not that I ever think you will) a drop of my thoughts for your ocean of wisdom, you know where to find me.

I suppose you do not have much time, and I could write away until dawn.

I am, and always will be, waiting for your voice and words.

Yours,
Funadrius

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