Love Letters – Winning Love Letter by Ashis

love letters

This is the winning love letter of love letters writing competition



Always is a long time. Such a long time that Always is, it’s always strange. Can you believe that it has already been over a month since that lovely afternoon at the lake? I have missed you with every ticking of the clock for these last weeks and I can’t tell how exhilarated I was to find your letter on my table this morning.

O sweet mother of melancholy wake thy self and gander at the ever changing world where you always live together with sorrow and tears. Take my hand and see for yourself how you’ve made your mark upon this tiny fragile heart always bent on proving to you that it isn’t too late to change. For o sweet melancholy, darling, my sweetheart, my love, wake up now and see for yourself what you’ve cost and created.

Voices. Alive and stark. Faultlessly persuasive but not entirely faultless. Influential. Loud and clear. Like the birds singing in German or in French. Or maybe sometimes in Spanish. Sometimes its Sanskrit and Latin mixed, which is always sort of funny to listen to but then it’s not that fun because you don’t understand anything. Haha! Whatever the language though, they hardly make sense but sure do sound lovely.

Dearest, I write, followed by a pause. I do not know what I want to do in these pages. Or this page for that matter. I am not even sure if this is a good idea; to test myself if I will keep on writing if I don’t have a lead. But silently, deep inside, I can feel that it is NOT a good idea at all. No lead!? Seriously? How can I even begin without a lead?? To be honest, I haven’t the slightest clue if I should continue scribbling although all I have in my head is an absolute blank sheet of paper that for months I have been trying to doodle on. Many may refer to this situation as a Writer’s Block.

But it’s just a Block with me. I guess. And even, I am not sure if that’s the case with me. I may be demonstrating the symptoms that may be highly suggestive of the ailment (empty head; ran out of ideas; urge to write but no motivation; fear of failure; paranoia; talking …although now I notice that I may have been saying the same thing using different words here. But whatever.) And ‘Writer’s Block’ is way too heavy for me to handle. It’s way too serious. Too literary for someone as futile, as petty, as non-writer-ish as myself. Makes me seem utterly important. Or perhaps it’s just love.

Love. What a formidable thought, don’t you think? Never thought I’d say that to you, but every inch of my being craves for your company, for another moment like the one at the lake; for you, dearest. It’s a funny feeling deep inside and I cannot express it. The restlessness. The hopelessness. The longing. PK says it’s definitely love and I brush him off like dust. Could it be though?

Today I thought I’d finally write to you. I know it’s been long, and the more I think about it, the more guilt I feel. But let’s be honest here: I have proven to be a nuisance at keeping a diary, or a journal; or even writing a letter. Only in names do these things relate to me. Or me to them. “Oh yeah, he keeps a diary”; and so on from others that bites me like a cold chilly blizzard. But in practice, I have been anything but regular. Even while I am writing this, I can really feel the pen slipping away- the paper too- caught by a dreadful thought that I might be losing my grip; that maybe I have forgotten how to write; and my mind, hands, legs, are anywhere but at peace.

Dearest, how have you been? I should have asked this right at the beginning of the letter but as you can see, I was overwhelmed by my own emotions and stories that I forgot sensitivity. Honestly though, how have you been? Your letter sounded desperate and sad, and I cannot have that happen. You know how sad it makes me to see you sad. Please write soon. I have had this brilliant idea of us eloping away to the sea for a week, away from this madness and finding a place to retire even if it’s only for a week. A home maybe, like you always say we need.

I am dying in here caught in the incessant and untiring eyes of S and I know you understand too. How about we both leave them and run away? Maybe we could go to the sea like I said above. And we could stay there for more than just a week. Maybe for like years. Maybe forever. Write to me soon dearest. And we can plan. How about you join us in the party next week that S is hosting for his friends. He says I am allowed a couple of my own friends. ‘Allowed’ sounds more like a privilege now that I am rethinking about it. I will write to D and to a couple of others. Mary Lu, Warbeck, but I know what they are all going to say. Some kind of engagement is bound to crop up somehow in their already busy lives. But yes, write soon and we can actually plan. I cannot wait to see the new paper you say you are working on.

Always and not just this once.

love letters

Question and Answer with Ashis

1. Tell us more about you

These people round here wear beaten-down eyes sunk in smoke-dried faces and I already have over a dozen twitter accounts and an under-development seventh novel. I am eighteen; I went to Budhanilkantha School; and I dream under my parents’ roof almost ceaselessly about having a roof of my own one of these days where I’d write and read without any obstruction and help create a creative world of bright minds and realized applications.

2. What love means to you?

Love, I believe, is a heavily misunderstood affection that is most mistaken for infatuation. For me Love is too abstract, too good to be true. But of course I like the idea of Love. I am an agnostic and I’d really to be surprised by its miracle.

3. Did you dedicate this letter to someone or it was a sheer imagination ?

I wrote this letter from a depressed woman to another woman at whom her affection is directed. Although I cannot say that it entirely fictional, the premise indeed is.

Read other winning love letters:
Pratikshya, “True love enhances you and not stresses you everyone said.”
Art is you by Adarsha
Love, Come back soon by Avishek
To Careless, Clumsy, Innocent Girl by Sajak

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Pratikshya, “True love enhances you and not stresses you everyone said.”