Picking Up the Writing Pad

With the peak of technoligical advancements in communications, how many of us would actually put anything down in pen and paper anymore? "Writing" letters is close to unheard of these days with emails and IMs, and yet, there is always sentimental about receiving post. The thought of someone actually putting their thoughts into handwritten words, although not perfect as print, but is indeed heartwarming, and never fails to put a smile across the face.

*The last letter I wrote was around May 2006. It was never posted.*

Picking up the writing pad again it was so difficult to express what I wanted to say. I had loads to say, but just did not know how. (Yep, you got me...) It was very strange to me that writing a letter in the language that I best express myself could be so difficult. How weird it is that I could only describe what is going on in my mind right now in a language that I refuse to speak these days, but the overall picture has nothing to do with the tongue or culture? Was it the language or the content? It has never took me that long to write out a paragraph unless it was for my thesis. My heart races, ears starting to get hot, and my palms starting to sweat as I go through again and again in my head what I would like to tell.

Maybe, just maybe... Nah, thinking about it in that light will be giving too much pressure. Nevertheless, I could not deny that there is something magical happening as I penned down carefully my message. It seemed like it took hours for the letter to be completed, sealed, but it was left on the table over night before I had the courage to take it to the post office. Even after the stamp was fixed, I wondered whether it is a good idea... ... ...

I handed the letter to the postal staff and walked back blushing. It was the coldness outdoors, my fever, or it could be... something else.