SUNDAY SECRET

This secret was not part of the batch of secrets this week on  POSTSECRET . I saw it on the postsecret FB page : 

I love writing letters. But just like the one who sent this secret, I probably have kept more letters that I wrote than those I actually gave. Writing it down gives me a feeling of relief, the feeling of getting it off my chest is so liberating. Love letters, I think I send most of them, but letters that speak of my frustrations, anger and disappointments about something someone has done, those kinds that makes you cry your eyeballs out while  writing it; are torn immediately after the last period has been written. 

The mushy, hopeless romantic side of me will go through the ends of the earth to give the most kilig love letters when I am madly inlove. Wrote sweet notes on boarding passes , traced my hand on paper and later used it  to write on sweet nothings upon learning that the object of my affection thinks my small chubby fingers are adorable.  I spent countless hours inside a bookstore searching for the perfect Hallmark card that would make him think that the card was written with our relationship in mind. Yes, I may not look the part but I seriously get all mushed up whenever I get badly bitten by the lovebug. 

And I love getting them too, but sadly, I think all the love letters I have ever received are in a way, solicited.  Making me believe that at this age and era, finding a guy who would hold a pen and write me a love letter, without me asking for it, is probably close to impossible.  

I don't need a guy who can make poems, letters need not be grammatically flawless.  I do not need perfect penmanship on fancy, sweet smelling paper. My heart would skip a beat with a note that speaks of how I am appreciated, even if it would just be  written on a piece of bond paper... bad handwriting and all. 

I hope the guy who wrote this letter would have the courage to let "Rachel" know exactly how he feels. And I hope this Rachel would find it in her heart to at least take time to read this letter and who knows, maybe, I hope, the lovesick me really hopes, they find a way back into each other.