Thus I am

My beloved,

So many, many words weave themselves through my mind that I lose the courage to write at all. How many thoughts can one page hold, tell me?

My eyes spill nothing but grievances, like water. To whom shall I make my complaint? Perhaps this is the one power of profound hurt — it locks the mouth completely! The wounded soul knows that words cannot explain such things.

I touch my blue sari and say: I am in great pain. Can you do something about it? You can, can't you! It's because you can that I'm writing to you. None of my letters reach you, do they? Then have I been sending them to the wrong address all these years?

Since I don't have your address, I can't write to tell you anything. I'm forced to write on Facebook... hoping it might somehow reach your eyes.
So what did you do for your birthday? Did you buy flowers? Sweets? Didn't you cut a cake?

You know, these days I drink so much tea. I long to taste the tea you made with your hands, but I can't just show up at your house saying "I came for tea!" One needs a very strong reason to reach you. How do I create such a strong reason, tell me?

Seasonal fever, many people are catching cold. Are you well? Don't stay so alone all the time. If you fall ill, at least let that boy who stays with you know.
You could spend an entire life without telling anyone your sorrows. But you know, once you fall sick you realize how precious good health is. If you don't take care of yourself, how will you fight the world?
And your beloved World Cup has arrived. Now you'll have to stay healthy if only to support the team I dislike.
Don't spend your days eating only fried foods — have some boiled vegetables with eggs and milk.

You're an organized person, yet I have to tell you everything. By telling you, I convince myself that I still have the right to scold you.
People are like this! They cling to some false excuse or other, refusing to stop thinking themselves important.
People love to believe that their absence will devastate the one they love. That's the excuse people live by. But people never think even once that only when the person we depend on is lost do we learn to be self-reliant.

Are you sleeping? I don't want to see you now, don't even want to talk, you know? There's a distinct flavor to missing someone every moment while staying at a safe distance. Nothing compares to this taste. If you were near, could I write all this rambling nonsense in a letter, tell me?
Listen, does no one in the world write unnecessary letters? Then what do people do with unnecessary words? Swallow them? Or sell them? I have so many unnecessary words that swallowing them would be impossible!
Though yes, they could be sold; only someone with lots of money or time could buy them. Do you have lots of money... or time?

Yours,
Me