August 30, 2016
So um, it’s August 30 2016. I’m currently writing this in Filipino class which is actually quite ironic because I’m using the English language instead of Filipino but let’s not talk about that. It’s been a month or two – I guess, when we first met. I don’t know why I’m saying this but hey. It’s really nice to meet you. Sorry if this letter seems pretty off because I’m trying so hard to write this letter. Not that this seems like a “stupid thing” (it’s really not) but I just want to write to you because I feel like there’s nothing left to do as of the moment. Also, I am terribly sorry for my handwriting. I could’ve drafted a letter and typed it on my laptop right when I get back home. But no, I’m writing this here. Purely downright and honest.
I honestly don’t know what to say but I do feel like this one had to be written. Anyways, here it goes.
You told me not to save you or to call Paul. I didn’t reply because I did not have the courage to lie to your face. You can consider this as a “helper” or not. It’s up to you. I just really can’t lie to people where I give them a concrete word/promise.
Let me tell you a story. In my first spoken word poetry performance, I prepared two poems. The first one was entitled “Untitled #1”. It was my first untitled poem. It’s also my first spoken word poem. Also my first performance in which where I am performing for the first time as I perform my first spoken word poem. Also the first time I went to an Ampersand gig. Also a first time where someone gave me a poetry collection and where I first met a “legit artist” (according to the status quo, at least): kind of broke, art school drop out, but extremely talented. Twas the night of the firsts. The basic one. I don’t know what’s the next firsts.
The second poem I prepared was not written by me. I didn’t perform it but the poem was by Nora Cooper. And damn, when it that first time hearing that poem, it hit me like an elephant. I don’t want to exactly talk about what that poem is about but I didn’t think that like 6 months later, this poem would apply to me in real life. In which I am speaking as Nora Cooper. Before, I thought that I wouldn’t have met someone like who she was describing. It was specifically at that point where I had thought of writing a poem like that. But well, inspiration doesn’t exactly stick to you no matter how great a piece is.
And well, now. I don’t want to write that poem I wished to write last February. I still am scared. Everyday. I don’t want to write that article or that blog post. I’ve been writing poems for all I could ever remember. I don’t want to write what Nora wrote or what Nora must’ve written after her friend motioned for that action.
We’ve still got 6 more months in school. Six more months and I want to know you better. I don’t want to have that first that Nora was talking about. The most paralleled sentence at the moment is “We’ve still got hope”.
I guess this might be my last letter. I still want to write more letters. I really do.
All the love,
ICYMI: Letter to Niña #1