Dear Maca…

We are so close and just writing this letter is making me nervous. Believe me, by the time you read this I'll be biting my nails, wondering why I can't do thing in a normal way. But I just can't accept life as it is, I want to make it even more special.

I believe that you can't sit and wait for things to get better. You have to do something. If you're feeling down, if you feel lost, then you first need to want to change that and then take a step. If you are feeling unmotivated, then you have to look for something that'll motivate you, because it won't come on its own. Or even worse, you won't see it if it comes because you'll be too busy waiting for it to hit you in the face to notice when it walks past you. To see how wonderful life is you ought to want to see it first.

Do you want to see how wonderful life is?

I sent you to the Street of Art because I believe it reflects life as it is. Always changing, colourful and messy. Unpredictable. Irregular.  Fun and sad at the same time. Life is a work of art, too. I wanted you to see it and think about it. Think of how ephemeral it is, too. Your life as it is right now won't be the same tomorrow. Someone will paint on you and change you, so you need to appreciate how it is now because it'll never look the same and you might miss it later. You have to appreciate the view now so you won't hold regrets in the future.

I like to think I'm painting on you little by little with these letters and activities. I'm trying to do my best to leave a beautiful mark on you. And I would like to keep working on you, adding more paint, a new drawing, a new design. And I want you to paint in my life, too.

I'm a social person and I love making new friends. Adding more colour to my life, more styles and more chaos because it makes it more fun. I would be my honour if you also wanna be part of that.

I also like painting on many people's lives and that's why I join many causes, that's why I know so many people that are willing to help me. Now I would like you to meet some extraordinary people. They are so talented and they not only bring colour to everyone's lives, they bring music.

They are some street musicians I saw one day. They play on the same spot every Sunday and they already have their usual crowd. I'm there almost every Sunday. I want you to see them and enjoy how they can make music even more special. Just approach the lead singer, Lee Won, and tell her you’re Maca. She has the next letter. Also, request any song you'd like and I promise you they'll make it special.

I'll be waiting and I hope you've kept taking pictures because I want to see them and I want you to tell me how you’ve felt. Enjoy your time!

I see you soon (:

PS: the next letter is R

I know the directions to find the musicians are on the next page but I can't turn it. I keep staring at his words, at his messy writing that for some reason looks anxious.

His words… His words touch me in a way I've never felt before. They grab me and shake me, the turn everything upside down and then leave me facing the opposite direction.

How?

How can one person have such power with just words? I'm a literature and linguistic student, I'm well aware of the power of words and how they can create and destroy all in the same sentence, but this is different. It's not the words themselves, it's not the way the phrases things per say… It's the meaning behind each sentence. The feeling I get from reading his letters. Or even his post-its.

The things he said to me are nothing new or that I didn't know before. They don't hold the secret to happiness or the cure for my condition, but they have a huge effect on me. From the first post-it to this very letter, I've always felt something when reading his words.

It's overwhelming the way I do listen to him, how I actually consider what he says and try to do what he says. I try to see things from his perspective and that helps.

That's the key word here. H and his notes have not rescued me and cured me. And they won't. He won't be my saviour or anything. But he's helped me to feel better, to find strengths when I couldn't see anything but blackness. He's helped me to see things that I always ignored. He helped me to pay attention to and appreciate details I always took for granted.

I know one day I'll fall again, I'll hit rock bottom and feel like all hope and meaning is lost. But his words will be there to help me. Even if I never see him again after today, I'll still have the post-its, I'll have the pictures of today and I'll have the memories. And they will help me to stand on my feet again and carry on because forward is the only direction in which I can go.

And hopefully, he'll stay as a part of my life, painting on me with many colours. He wants that and I want him to stay as well, I want him to make my life colourful and messy. I want to see life through his eyes, I want to learn. I want to feel more. Because that means I'm alive and being alive is good, even if it doesn't seem like that at the moment.

•••

You know when you have one of those days when you just feel like you have to cry? And it has nothing to do with your period. No. It's because you feel like you’re choking but you don't even know why. You wake up in the middle of the night with a feeling that someone is suffocating you, taking your breath away, in a bad sense. You feel weak and like anything could blow you away and break you to pieces. You feel fragile and that scares you and makes you overly sensitive.

I was having on of those days. My hands were shaking more than usual and I felt anxious.

It was probably because I had had a relapse two weeks ago and I was still recovering. Because of that same relapse I had done terrible in one of my tests that actually was very important. And as I was feeling so pessimistic and hopeless, that only triggered something bigger.

It was my last semester and I couldn't afford to fail anything, yet there I was, putting on the line my already uncertain future. Recovering from that bad grade was going to be almost impossible for it was my hardest subject.

Why was I even studying that? What was I going to do with my life with that degree? Work at McDonalds? I didn't even know what I liked better as to direct my path a bit. No. I was as lost as when I was when I entered the major. Where was my growth in those four years?

I sat at the park on my way home because I felt at the edge of a panic attack. I focused on breathing but despair was rushing over me, like waves trying to engulf me.

I didn't even notice when the tears starting falling, I just knew I was terrified of failing but at the same time I just wanted to give up because living was too hard.

I sat there, on a random bench and hugged my own legs and cried. I cried and cried because that maybe could help and because I didn't know what else to do.

At some point the tears stopped—maybe I didn't have anymore to shed—but the pain was still there in my chest, making it tight.

I looked up and took a deep breath. Good things, think of the good things. And I did that. I thought of my mum, my friends, Oddie, books, my stranger's note every morning—

My stranger's note!

I was running extremely late that morning and didn't have time to pick it up.

Feeling this sudden urge kicking inside of me, I jumped on my feet and rushed to the bench, praying it would still be there.

I released a relieved sigh when I saw it and took it to read it.

What would be life without feelings? The fact you can feel pain means you can also feel happiness. It means you're alive and that's a reason to smile (:

To be grateful for the pain.

That seemed crazy, why would I be grateful for the pain, the tears and the suffering? I didn't ask to be born, I never asked for all this. Smile because you're alive? That sounded stupid.

But at the same time it didn't.

Because I was alive I had a loving mother. I had my great friends. I had seen amazing things. I had met amazing people. Because I was alive I had been very happy, too.

Life without feelings at all could only be dreadful.

If to be happy and to know what happiness was I had to also feel miserable, then I guess being alive is good. How could I know I'm happy if I've never felt sad to contrast?

Being alive is a reason to smile.

And I did, I smiled while holding that post-it, grateful with my stranger for always having the right words for me. I still couldn't understand how he managed to accomplish that, but I was grateful.

It's easy to forget the good things when you're feeling down. It's even easier to let oneself be consumed by the darkness. Thank you for reminding me life is more than how I'm feeling right now. Thank you for making me smile —Maca

•••

Even today I'm impressed that he always managed to have the right words to say. It's like he could see ahead what was going on with me and provide that point of view I was ignoring.

I’m really grateful to him because in these past five months he's been a constant source of positivism. Like sunshine after a rainy day.

As I stand here today, surrounded by all this colour, I realise I've painted myself of a dull grey. Even when someone added colour I always covered their work so no one could change my colours. But H keeps adding yellow to my life, through his post-its and his words, he adds warm yellow and today he's added even more colours: calm blue, hopeful green, happy red, wise white, scary black, mysterious violet, lovely pink, and more, so many more.

I feel like one of these walls, filled with colours and different styles because every person I've met so far has left some mark.

I know sometimes it seems impossible to see the bright side or to go on. It's easier to stay inside feeling miserable because going out and actually doing something is so hard. But H is right, I won't accomplish anything like this, I have to desire to get better, to feel better. I have to do something. I have to let people throw paint at me instead of swimming in grey paint.

And with that in mind, I turn the page because it's time to see musicians. 

-:-:-

Did you like it? Let me know!

Bel, xx