Why do I write letters?
Why do I write letters to fictional entities whom I can’t meet? Letters which will forever be hidden – unread?
Letters which express my profound appreciation of art.
Characters who are very well crafted leave a mark. They aren’t real but strangely feels real. They are even more relatable than real human beings – the funny thing about fiction.
There are characters who broke me.
Characters who made me happy.
Characters who taught me things I could never ever learn at school.
Such power is found on those characters that I sometimes hope for them to be real. To speak to them in person – to understand them at a personal level. It would be a pleasure.
But they are fictional.
They can’t be real.
Their dominion lies on the pages of the book I read, on the creative muse of those who brought them to life – their writers.
But I never regret meeting them – knowing them.
Others left with a lesson.
It’s a mysterious feeling. Weird. But beautiful.
Writing to them makes them feel real. It’s relaxing as it is meditative. It lets me dive into their world, speak to a character I’ve never known before – a chance to bear thoughts I never knew existed prior to writing them down.
Not all people see the beauty of writing.
Only a few.
I’m glad to be a part of the pact. Nothing could beat the feeling of wonder I have when writing.
It’s the craft I love – a craft I will forever do.
In God’s grace.