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Love letters

© aNadventures

Butterflies in your tummy won’t feed you. That’s the slogan of a postcard I’ve pinned to my fridge. It’s one of those Edgar Freecards, the ones that used to be available in cafés and bars. Usually placed in metal racks somewhere near the toilets. Remember?

Anyway. Butterflies in your tummy won’t feed you. I agree. But they can make you happy. Does happiness feed you? What makes you happy, anyway? As for me, love letters do. The ones with little hearts on top of the “i” letters. Love letters make me happy. 

When did I last receive a love letter? And from whom? The last love letter I remember receiving was one from my own pen. Words blown my way as light-heartedly as a feather. Words to encourage myself. No romanticism, but authentic trust. Trust in the universe and in myself. 

Building trust isn’t that easy. It’s like piling bricks. You create a tower by putting one brick on top of the next. You keep doing this until the tower starts to wobble. Then you have a choice to make: You can keep building and see if the tower persists. Or you can stop to prevent the tower from crumbling. That’s the thing with piling bricks. And with building trust. 

I trusted my first significant other. “You have faith in the relationship. You’re not afraid. I admire that”, he once told me. Back then, I didn’t understand what he meant. Why would I be afraid of the relationship? I felt trust. Towards him. Towards the bricks. That’s why I allowed the tower to grow. It became very high. That boyfriend wrote me several love letters. I think I still have them in one of the boxes where I keep the remains of my exes. Not their actual human remains, but the memories. 

I liked receiving love letters from him. And I’m wondering when I’ll receive the next love letter. Nowadays, I read WhatsApp chat histories. Some of them also give me butterflies. But unfortunately, they won’t feed me, either. 


From → Random

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