QUOTES ON #ANONYMOUSLETTER

#anonymousletter quotes

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2 APR 2019 AT 20:26

The anonymously written letter,
She found accidentally
That day in library,
Had finally found it's owner
After years of staying in boring maths book......

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11 MAY 2018 AT 21:50

And suddenly it became so awesome. All my long buried emotions started bursting out.Not to the pages I wrote, but to the people around.And it was peaceful.I realised that it is okay to laugh without hesitation or let your tears roll down before your dear one.And in this way I started forgetting you, stopped writing to you, and started thinking that I would never write to you again.There would be no sleepless night, no restless soul, and no 'me' who would be dying to lean on someone for shelter, would want to say a lot but can't express.But, it happens again and again I need that shelter.I resume writing to you.

"Who are you?",a question worth asking. Should I reveal that? No, I shouldn't.How would I call you anonymous then? Just one thing I want to say... I'm destined to write to you.

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4 MAY 2017 AT 1:29

Do you remember the day last year? I was so ill and... But see, this year I'm fine and so busy with my work. Study is also going well. You know I'm spending more time with kids these days. I never skip any tuition class now. And they are like blessing from God. They fill hours with happiness. Finally, I'm happy. Only the insomnia isn't cooperating with me. Still there are 2 am thoughts. I don't know why I'm writing this to you knowing you will never read and even I don't want you to read.

It was raining yesterday. I went down in rain. I could feel the raindrops on my face. It drenched my scorched heart and washed away fatigue of months. I felt I was getting free from your memories. But even the act of forgetting you isn't alienated from you.

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30 JUN 2017 AT 0:26

It's been a long time I haven't written anything to you. The day we met for the last time, I remember you were asking me something. But there was chaos and I was so busy crossing the road. Why our paths crossed at the zebra crossing? I just waved a bye reaching the other side of the road. You didn't. You never did. You just left as you did earlier. From then your silence intensified. And I decided to enter into the world of chaos by sidelining your alluring silence. I started drowning into the work. And luckily there was so much to do. Everyday I was convincing myself that I was going away from you, I didn't feel writing to you. I wrote poems, stories, one liner but not a letter. I talked to everyone known or unknown to me but not to you. And when I was almost convinced to discard your existence, my pen denied me.

And once again I'm writing to you knowing you won't read. Why everytime our ways only cross and don't meet? Why always you leave without saying a goodbye? And I keep waving knowing nobody will wave back.

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1 SEP 2017 AT 1:27


So I stopped writing for long. Actually I stopped writing to you. And it's been a long time since I wrote the last letter to you. It's not that I missed you. But everytime fire started burning within, I felt the lack of you. The insane, messed up, destructive me seeks you. That's the reason I can't let you go though I want to. Sleeping is almost impossible these days. And the lonely hours remind me of you, and how painfully you live within me scratching my heart with your sharp nails. You've destroyed everything within, all tender feelings I wanted to possess. Now it's too tough to rejuvenate them though I'm trying hard. The world around seems so temporary to me though I want to believe they are forever.

Forever is a myth which I wanted to be true, a fairytale that I always wanted to live, and may be a truth on which I've lost my ability to believe. Should I hate you that you've finished me within? Rather I'm thankful that you gave me ability to start writing my own fairytale.

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23 JUL 2017 AT 18:06

There was a time when I could write to you for hours without any short of words or short of emotion. It was as spontaneous as a hilly stream or the rain of monsoon. Both have an endless source. I had an endless source too - you, not physically but as a wound in my heart. And I used to console myself that it would be healed with time. Little did I Know moving on is so painful.

Everytime I feel you are not with me, I try to remember the day we met for the last time and there starts a flashback.Then the alarm... I need to move on. This goes on and on.

And sometimes I cannot feel anything and the next, more painfully I cannot write anything! I ask myself, why I'm unable to write? And the answer comes as a question, "Am I healed?" If this is called healing, do I really want this?

Sometimes our pen seeks pain. May be writer's heart doesn't want to be healed.

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17 APR 2017 AT 22:15

I wish you were here with me today and I could tell you about my life these days. Finally, I become workaholic. It's the best way to keep you out of my thoughts, to sleep early at night. Weeks before, I saw dawn after a long time. You Know, when I saw the scattered clouds being tinted gradually, I felt my life less colourless. The sweet breeze, the chirping birds, the silence of nature revived my soul. I wanted to say you that I'm living. But still I'm not sure if the dark days are gone or it is an interval between two nightmares.

You know I've discovered something about myself. Your absence have motivated me for being expressive. Now I talk to everyone. I wish we would meet now. Atleast one of us would talk. Anyway, I'm thankful to you for leaving like that.

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30 JUL 2017 AT 20:29

It was pain that used to inspire me to write to you. And you were the source of that pain, the source of my writings. But nowadays I'm prone to write less about pain. I realised that everything in the nature leads us to the path of healing. Sometimes we ignore that, and sometimes we can't recognize. But the most harmfully, sometimes we deny to heal. That's why I keep you with me in my letters. There must be a reason that suffocates me enough and I express myself, a reason that numbs my heart and wakes my soul up.

Now it's confusing whether you keeps the flow of my writings or I keep you alive in my writings. Don't you think you'll be perished if I stop writing?

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