8/7/11

Dear Stranger,

             

              I have been dating my girlfriend for a year and a half but I am in love with somebody else. I won't break up with her because I refuse to break her heart. It's hard to look into her eyes because I can see the love she has for me in them. It's even harder to look into the eyes of the person I'm in love with. He is so very handsome.

7/17/11

Dear Stranger,

I was looking at photography online the other day. There was one picture that caught my attention especially. It was a picture of a birds nest, and three or four eggs in the nest. However, right in the center of the nest, was a small empty bird cage. I believe that it symbolized that from the moment of conception, we are already destined to end up a certain way. This made me sad, in the fact that I don't want to already know how the rest of my life is going to pan out. I want to go out and live, and make last minute decisions, and take risks. I don't want to safely walk down some path to somewhere where I was already predetermined to go. I want to stray off this path and make my own road, and have my own adventures and end up somewhere beautiful that no one has ever been to before. I don't want to end up like the poor old bird who was destined to land in a cage. 
It showed me that if we follow the crowd and go where everyone else is going, we're going to end up in a cage, like everyone else in the world. 

We all have to be our own person right? Unique. 
If we're afraid of taking chances and straying from the crowd, we're never going to find a beautiful haven.

“It’s very beautiful over there.” I don’t know where there is, but I believe it’s somewhere, and I hope it’s beautiful." -- Thomas Edison.

7/3/11

Dearest Stranger,

If you really knew me you'd know my tragedy. I'm simple and small, so easy to fall. Surrounded by heart ache, I can never get a break. He's gone and it's ripping me apart, He use to call me his sweetheart.From the day we got married, it was the love that we carried. Now he's looking over me, but it's him I can no longer see. Although this is my tragedy, I am only one of many.

Letter From A Soldier

I normally do not set up pen pals, but I recieved a letter today from a soldier in Afghanistan who is looking for someone to correspond with.

He likes play dough, jazz music, being in the woods, and Snack Packs (vanilla especially.)

I can only select one person to forward his letter to. If you are interested, please send me an email:

I've already found someone. Thanks to everyone who volunteered. :) You guys are great!

6/26/11

Dearest Stranger,

Night is a marvelous time in the countryside. Night is splendid everywhere, but it is naked when there aren't thousands of lights everywhere. On a truly full night the limits of vision are expunged from your imagination. You see the world not at all, but the things you want to see, everywhere. The world becomes a game, an uncharted map, familiar yet unknowable.

There are many types of darkness. There is a silky liquid darkness that trickles into your pores and eyes like nothing else; seething into you like a living thing. There is a soft, warm blanket of darkness, that feels more like wool than air, that hugs you with humid persistence unless you force it to change with obnoxiously loud air conditioning. There is a blissfully icy cold drenching darkness; it fills the gaps in things, like ink, and leaves the skin feeling oh-so-alive. There is a barren, stagnant darkness, a sad darkness confined to closed spaces and dreariness; it is something often found in attics and tunnels, businesslike, it's most assuredly dead next to its brethren. There is a darkness that comes from inside you, and meets the darkness outside, they sometimes dance, sometimes repulse like wary cats, and sometimes they never manage to touch at all. There is a darkness that feels like music, that hums with a vibration just shy of real hearing. There is a darkness that feels nervous, not quite willing to touch you, but wanting to very much.

All of these fill the night. Darkness gives night another dimension sometimes missing from the day. There isn't a fear to be had from darkness, rather it is a lonely person, and it wants to be your friend. So, as you read this, in a dark room, at night, reach out. Turn off your monitor. Make believe for a moment, and find yourself less than alone.

6/19/11

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5/24/11

Dearest Stranger,

What's a mile in your shoes? I expect it's tiring. I hope, though, that it is also colorful. I hope that every inch of every mile shapes you, and every leaf passed by enters your mind's inner catacombs. Once you no longer see, once you no longer feel things, you begin to die. I don't want you to die, it would be horribly wasteful. If that slow death has already started to sink in, I implore you to kill it mercilessly, for even though death does not die, the implements of death are easily found and eliminated. Here, I write to you about just this one. I write about this one because unlike drunk drivers and unnamed diseases, you can control this. Just find the sources of apathy in your life, should there be any, and remove them. Know that the context of your life is not your life, and does not own you. Your existence in this world is independent of your job, family, school, friends and lovers. You are your own person, from the crown of your head to the soles of your feet is yours. It is all that truly is yours in this world. This may sound like a materialistic loss, but it is a gain as well. You don't have the burden of being more than the person you are. You assume roles of action and ownership at your own discretion, not because there is a natural law forcing you to. In this way you need not own sadness or any other burdens on your soul. Foul memories can be forgotten. Foul emotions can be replaced with ones you want. Foul habits can be unlearned. A foul life can be discarded and made fresh again.

Your life is in your hands, more than you realize, and less than it ought to be. Never let the world overwhelm you, don't succumb to the apathy this world engenders in its inhabitants, not for me, but for the proof that you are your only owner. In order to claim your life as the thing you own totally, live the world, and strive through it, but never let it become you, or you it. Once you are no longer yourself, and living true to that, you are dying.