Mr. Vague's 10 Year Correspondence To Himself

Well here you are again my friend. It has been a while, and of course, you will agree to me that this is one of the most common understatements you have made insofar as your so called enthusing existence is concern, I reckon it will be another aeon until you will come back to writing. You’re great at writing, at least you want to think that you are. But know that you have made good progress thus far as expressing your thoughts which have impeded you from really scribbling it as you used to.

You have a headache now. Probably from the rush of that hot coffee that you have bought last night, but only drank and finished until about 30 minutes ago, except I know that you are also in a situation that has been quite a repetitive position of failure. You are ill-equipped to address it. Although you have become better at it. That I know is what’s causing that throb that’s crawling from your shoulder to your nape. Except, its incomparable to the bottomless pit of emptiness you feel in between your chest and stomach. Remember where you are today and cherish the agony. You will appreciate the eventual irony as you read this personal correspondence when you revisit.

This is transcribed in hope for your acknowledgement to this personal resistance. Your addiction to magnificence and attraction to the catastrophe of pursuing something out of your depth. Your quest on meaningful conversations is yet to be met. It’s not so much of the high standards that you set, but more so on the fact that the opposites has been intimidated by your notions of unrestricted idealism. Meanwhile, you dwell on the contrived circumstances you put yourself in to gratify the absence of real sentiments you yearn for.

I hope that it will be of an interest to you that you have cycled through this quite often than you intended. Thus, I bid farewell for now and I hope to hear from you in another decade.