Dear someone I'll never meet,
Sometimes I think about how pathetic and painful my life must be to get to the point of only managing to relieve the weight of my sadness by writing letters to someone I will never meet.
How can I cope with the fact that, in my 30's, I have stopped trusting people to the point that I only tell my honest truths to a piece of paper?
A long time ago you appeared in my dreams: a man with a silky-smooth voice, whispering to me the words I had been searching for all day. In the morning I always woke up with a different song in my head, just the one that explained everything I wanted to say. In none of my dreams have I seen your face, only a smile as warm as the August sun. Many times I thought of giving you a name, but nothing seemed good enough for the being who helps me sleep at night and who, from far, far away, over the rainbow, listens to me every time I speak to him silently.
When the spring light starts to appear, I hope you won't go away so I can tell you how the sea smells, how the clouds dance, how the wind sings. And at the end of this long, hard journey, when there are no more tears to shed, when nothing hurts anymore, when no one hurts me anymore, when I reach the light, then I will sing you all the songs I discovered, I will read you all the letters I wrote, and I will see the story of my life in your eyes, in black and white, like an old film.
