Reid@YWP

Dear YWP, 

The first time I wrote you a letter I was 13. 

The second, 15. 

I'm 18 now; how time flies, my lovely people. 

And this is the last letter. 

I’m from a place of heritage 

Nationalities blending in the air

I’m from a place of buildings 

Reaching towards the sun

I’m from a place of rain

Where the sun is a legendary occurrence

I'm from the Land of Smiles, the beautiful country with temples and palaces where monks and royalty live. I'm from a mind of great creativity and words, and a mind of artistry and language. I'm from a household of hurt and love-filled words.

It’s that feeling

Of awkwardness

Of excitement

Of twenty million things on the tip of your tongue

Of so many words that will never be said.

i love writing. 

i loved writing.

until i started thinking.

for me, writing was my everything, i think

my way to an escape, my way to a love story, my way to another life.