Letter 5- Settling In

Dear Princess of the Winter Snow,

Remember that one spot on the edge of the cliff, where I loved to sit with my legs stretched on the two rocks right below it? You always asked me what was special about that spot and got annoyed when I didn't explain, because you hated sitting next to my spot on the slightly uncomfortable rock, with me almost blocking your wind and your clouds. Now that I have a relevant context, I'll tell you why I loved that spot. That spot on the edge of the cliff, made me feel like I have the power to look at the end. It felt like a royal throne, from where I could keep an eye on the world, and maybe, if I wanted to, control it. It was the edge, which gave me the responsibility of my fall, but it was also the highest point, which made it my duty to stay put. The beauty of the spot was that I had the city beneath me and sky at the eye level. And when I would look up, I wouldn't know what to expect. Sometimes, I thought I'd see me, staring at myself.

The point of telling you the story of my spot is that, that spot was the one place in the entire world that made me aware of how powerful, my being is. This new place has no spot. It's empty, like space. Without co-ordinates. I can't tell where I am, or in what state. I feel un-responsible for my being. I feel lost all the time. Like a lost kid in an amusement park, except the kid is invisible and no one would ever realise he's lost. I feel like I'm floating in a lucid dream. Jumping from one spot to another, irrelevant to my previous second, like my position is suddenly a variable of the universe.

I've been reading a lot. About science, about the universe, about creation. The vastness of hypothesis astonishes me, makes me wonder if someone is just wondering about the world. Like we are a part of a random imagination.

You know if I am actually just a part of an imagination, I'd like to be a part of yours. Then I would have a mind of my own. In that imagination, I'd imagine my own little imaginations. The circle of imagination and the imagined would be so complex that It'd make our imaginary heads spin. We'd be a part of a whirl. I think that'd be fun. Like being in a perpetual Ferris wheel.

Yes, I drift. To doubts and dilemmas and loneliness maybe. I drift in your thought and in memories. I slip on the snow, and drift to a different lane. But it's snowing hard and slowly, my feet are sinking deeper, making darker footprints, and fewer drifts. I'm settling in. In the newer spot, finding my co-ordinates, claiming a point in space and time.

I sometimes hope, in one of my drifts, that I slide down to where you are, with your feet firm in the ground, and you catch hold of me, till we settle in that spot and claim it, for eternity.


Later
The Lord of Darkness
   

Letter 4- Good Goodbye?

Dear Lord of Darkness,

I'm writing this letter to catch you up. On how school is, and how the city is and how the weather is, and how I am.
School has changed. There is more homework than usual since I'm the only one doing it. The school hours are longer now as I don't see you midway. Home has shifted further away because I don't race you till my door. The city has changed. The road has more leaves and fewer footprints. I, am just the way I was. Just more thoughtful. Mom tells me I'm quieter. I think I just think in my head now and keep my thoughts preserved in time. To pour them out to you, sometime. I hope I don't forget them. I hope they don't get too stale to be served.
I have been wondering, since the day you left, that I never got a chance to say goodbye. Frankly, I have been wondering more about how the perfect goodbye would have been. We could have had some drama, cried a tear or two, wished for things to be the same between us and bid farewell, in a long lingering wave, till  you disappeared in the bend.
Or I could have fought with you, cursed you for leaving me alone, to exist in nothingness, to be all by myself and without much importance of being. I could have hit you so hard, that you bled. I could have wished for you to bleed out every memory, every plan, every thought that could and would stay. I would have rejoiced in your pain and mine. And left you there bleeding out every bit of me, from you.
I could have thrown you a farewell party. With gifts and cards and a huge cake. We could have celebrated our parting. We could have celebrated having more things to talk about, more world to explore, more places that we could visit together in each other's descriptions, more future to look forward to. And we could have danced all night. A slow, revolting, exhilarating waltz, swaying to the thought of music and joy and celebration.
Sometimes, I feel I should have hugged you. Not in a I'm-never-going-to-let-go sort of way, not even in the I'm-devastated-and-I-need-your-touch-to-let-me-through sort of a way. I would have hugged you only to remember your scent, your touch, your being. I would have hugged you to let you find me in yourself when you need to find me and I could breathe you in every time I needed to be familiar with my world.
But then, I think the way you chose was the best goodbye. Where we do not bid farewell, where I do not tell you that I will miss you, where you do not promise to come back and there is no presence of your skin on mine. The perfect goodbye, is this. When I can look out side the window and expect to see you at all times. When I can imagine of several perfect goodbyes and be glad that we never said goodbye. The perfect goodbye, is no goodbye at all.

Princess of the Winter Snow.