Unsent Letters

I was rummaging through my treasure box (that's where I kept the things from my adolescence that had significance to me) in our old home. I didn't realize that through the years. I managed to immortalize my memories through my journals, the letters I received from friend, although most of them came from one person, Diane C. The keys, slumbooks and bottles. What struck me most are those unsent letters.

Through the years, I have collected reasons too for not sending most of them. I don't keep them in one place, so I'm pretty sure there will be lots of surprises for me along the way.

It took me a moment to decide whether I should open and read them. Fear and anxiety enveloped my mind, but only for a split second. Curiosity and peace wins all the time.

Some of the letters were written during the time I was deeply consumed by sadness, despair and hopelessness. Others were written in joy, anger, confession and love. I do not remember most of them, particularly the does written from pain. For some of them, it feels like I'm invading someone else's private sentiments. While for the others, it was a reminder of who I was and how far I have traveled in life, how much I have grown, how much time has passed.

As I close each letter, I find myself waiting for what emotions would consume me for my decision of not sending them to their recipient; regret or gratitude.

All the time, its gratitude.