Love Letters

One of the interesting thing renovating an old house is that you find very curious things. Having been living in a house that is currently being cleaned for a possible renovation, I found several cool things. Last week, I found a copy of Imelda Marcos's book entitled The New Human Order; the week before, I found several pictures of my great grandparents; but today, I found an anthology of love letters stacked on the old bookcase that we're going to move, possibly, by tomorrow.

Entitled Love Letters Will Never Die: With Love and Sex (Oh diba, title pa lang?!), I find the letters corny yet funny at the same time. I find it corny because the words are so profound and descriptive, but nevertheless, I can sense the sincerity in every letter. I would like to share you one:

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Dearest Belinda,

How cruel you are! How you torture me with your silence! How you torment me with your indifference! As if I had committed the biggest sin possible, when only love prompted me to pen you such loving declarations!

My nights are sleepless! My days are no less so, they are spent under a restless spirit. My thoughts are troubled with something I could not define. I enjoy no peace. Not a single minute of the day brings me contentment, even a shade only if possible. All because you are cold and silent as the grave.

I... dearest-- have built around your name a legend of tender adoration. About you I have woven dreams that have for its ultimate end, only glory for you and happiness for two souls beating to a melody called love.

How tenderly I write to you these lines, dedicated in the name of love and invoked with the blessing of Cupid. How lingeringly I murmur your name as I write these loving lines to you. Can't you realize this deep adoration of mine? Can't you see that this sincere love for you is purely dedicated to you and you alone?

I see you and the more I envision your loveliness, not to mention your feminine virtues, the more I treasure the memory that is yours. I cherish the day's memories of you. I guard them zealously,-- as I love life itself. In my heart, there is a shrine built for you. I remember everything, so that when I am alone to commune with my own musings, with my own thoughts, I reflect on your goodness of the day, remember all this day's memories, so that when I have my own solitude for myself, with only the night wind moaning by my window sill, or a ray of moonlight filtering its way thru my room, I recall all the sweetness of you. And as I say my prayers for the night, I thought to embody the sweetness of you in a dream, so beautiful that I only desire to sleep on with this beautiful dream, so beautiful that I only desire to sleep on with this beautiful dream of you forever --  if only possible. Can't you see how this love of mine has inspired me so?

So, why keep torturing me, I . . .? Why be contented with me suffering in these throes of love? Let me hear you say that hope is within reach, and I will consider myself the happiest of all mortals.

Yet as I lay down to sleep, I breathe the word hope and whisper it only to the wind. I hope and I wait.

                                                                                                              Hopingly yours,
                                                                                                                     David
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In our age of microblogging, how refreshing it is to read letters. I mean, with how messages our passed so swiftly in the seemingly frictionless world of social media, I appreciate the process full of sincere efforts in writing a love letter. Indeed, love letters will never die as it is immortalized by its own sincerity.

So right now, i decided to share a letter from this booklet each day. I do hope that you can appreciate them as I do.

PS: I am bored.

A Letter I Could Never Give/Tell to my Childhood Playmate

Five years ago we were playmates. Yeah, I was in high school and I play with you and your sister and our neighbors while you we're midway through elementary school. I'm three years older than you but we never mind, we play and play and play together until we bathed in our own sweat and we smelled stinky as hell. As the sun sets, we would go back to hour houses, looking forward for another round of Tagu-taguan next day.

Three years ago, I went to college without bidding farewell, You just started with high school-- so young-- you wouldn't care. As for me, I knew as soon as I graduated, I knew that I was too old for Langit-lupa and I have to deal with the problems of my troubled family, and the only way I could do that is by maturing. You wouldn't care for those things yet, but for me, I have to face the consequences of being three years older than you.

Then here I am, coming back to the neighborhood three years after I took off. My brother and sister are now in school and the town changed so much . I saw you...all grown-up...height is taller, shoulders are wider and voice is deeper. Yet, you still have that fluffy big brown eyes on your blemish-free face. You looked at me and smiled and I sent it back to you. But that's it. However deep inside, I wished we could talk about the three years we didn't see each other.

I see you everyday. We almost left our own home for school at the same time but we still do not talk. Maybe you matured too and found yourself too old to have a talk with your childhood  playmate. Or maybe we have different lives now---me going through college, establishing myself; and you coping and adjusting yourself through adolescence. I'm three years older than you and this age gap seems longer than it actually is.

To tell you the truth, I longed for the day you and I sit side-by-side, hands clasped, and my head resting on your broad shoulder. Not that I love you but I do like you. I am three years older and that makes me legal now and you are still not. These three years is hard for us to understand. i have too much burden but you still have the enthusiasm every day. I wouldn't want to take that away from you. But looking at you everyday makes my heart pounds wildly and every time you smile at me makes my blood rush to my face (Thanks to my dark complexion, you never noticed). but now, being three years older than you, I think the farthest I could go with you is just cherishing your malice-devoid smile and selfishly enjoy the instantaneous pleasure of seeing you smiling at me.