Letters

For those of you who are wrapped up in the world of the Internet, I assume you've never written a letter in your life. When I say letter, I mean pen to paper, let-me-see-your-bad-cursive letter, not an e-mail. Something that actually took some time to write, revise and correct as you go along. The strike-out words that didn't quite seem right when more thought was put in it.

Writing letters was my introduction to the world of writing, serious writing. All my thoughts were poured upon the page; each emotion carefully examined as I wrote to the girls I had crushes, or those that I loved. Letters from a friend would cheer up my day, and a return letter did the same for them. When a friend was low, I'd write them a letter inquiring what was wrong, how can I help.

But I haven't written a handwritten letter in years. I took up pen-paling in order to revive my deep love for the written word. Technology, however, has gotten the better of me. My wrist is too worn out to hold a pen for too long and my thoughts don't come as easy as they did before. I think I've gotten too tainted by the fact that I can receive an e-mail minutes after I send mine. Snail mail is now on a decline, at least in my world.

But then I stumbled upon Samara O'Shea's book, For The Love of Letters, and I was blown away. It brought me back the memories of scribbling the words I wanted to tell to people out loud in high school. The book led me to her site, Letter Lover, where I not only discovered she was by far the hottest author on my bookshelf (though the author's photo on the back sleeve hinted to this), but how passionate she really is about the subject of letter writing.

In the section, Letter Therapy, she writes:

"When writing, you set aside quality time with yourself and end up examining your relationship with the soon-to-be-receiver. Before delivering the message you'll confirm that, yes, this is in fact how I feel. Sometimes seeing your thoughts out in the open offers a consolation in itself, and you realize it was you and not them who needed the clarification. Other times you can reread what you wrote and thank [g]od you never sent it because it was written hastily and in a moment of fleeting anger. Herein lies the solace some people get from keeping a diary or journal."

And it's something you can never get with an e-mail, which can be quickly sent without a second thought.

I keep a journal to collect my thoughts. The latest entries deal with the very real visualizations of my death. When the plastic bag becomes my enemy, I write down my thoughts before I lose myself within them. Writing letters to myself--past, present and future--I can keep my mind at a steady ease. I don't wish to kill myself, and, like I've said, I don't think I have it in my. Suicide, for me, has never been the answer and is the most cowardly thing to do. Seeing this over and over is what reminds me why I don't do something to end myself.

I write letters to myself in upon these pages so I may never forget myself, and who I was. Not only do story ideas sneak their way into my journal, but words I cannot say out loud and wish I could. At times, I feel ashamed for thinking of death and dying. That's now who I am, but I can't seem to reach out and say it out loud. As long as I keep it in, I can assure myself that it's not there. But who am I kidding?

I don't know if it's me or if my mental health is on a decline. I try to keep myself supported by positive thoughts. And for the most part, they work. I suppose, aside from these thoughts, the only thing that keeps me going is my writing. Now that I feel unmotivated to do so, I fear that my mental health will take a even more problematic blow. I guess I'll see in due time.