Dear Alexander
By Ingrid Muñoz
Dear Alexander,
I’ve missed you. It’s almost a strange feeling to have since I also feel like I’ve only gotten a glimpse of the person that you are. But still, I knew I missed you when I was sitting on a blanket under the stars and I suddenly turned to ask my friend, “Who do you picture when you imagine someone playing the piano?” My answer, of course, was you. In fact, most times I picture you, it’s images of you smiling, dancing, and more often than not, it’s you while playing the piano.
I’ve missed the few and far in between moments when we would laugh and play together, like when you were a baby. I was a bit older than you when you were born but you were so special to me. I’ve often wished I were closer to your age, but now I think I wish I had been still even older than I was. I wish I’d had more experience, more wisdom, and more maturity. Then, maybe I could have helped you instead of being focused on growing up myself.
I used to think that maybe I was the problem, that you kept me out because I wasn’t the sort of person you wanted around, and that’s why you were so mean to me. But it saddens me somehow even more to see that the walls you have built around yourself were meant to keep more than just me out. You’ve shut us out – or should I say, you’ve shut yourself in. Why? At what point did you begin to feel as if you needed to hide away from us, from me? For so long I naively assumed that you were not alone in there. After all, you had your slew of online friends, and I could hear your heart-warming laughter coming from behind your walls, like when you were a kid. What do they have, that I don’t? I wondered.
When you finally began to step outside your keep, you began to fall apart faster than I could react to hold your pieces together. All this time I thought you were so much happier than I was, but I now see I was wrong. You claim to be satisfied within these tech-lined partitions, but if that’s true, then why are you so sad and angry all the time? Why do you keep saying you want to socialize with real people more, that you need to, but then don’t? You are so caught up in other people’s opinion of you that you have secluded yourself into a life that is fabricated by the unrealistic ideals of the faces behind the screens. Don’t you realize those digital faces are hiding their own desperate truths?
I think of the time when we almost drowned in the pool. You were so little and yet so brave. Too brave to realize you didn’t have the skills to survive in the deep end on your own. But I was nearby, and you knew you could come to me to save you. Even as you were frantically searching for the surface, you reached for my leg. I, too, was young, and in your anguish, you kept pushing me down into the depths. But I wouldn’t have stopped until I knew you were okay. And you trusted me to be your older sister, your devoted protector.
I know those technological distractions you rest on seem to be keeping you afloat, drifting on an endless sea, afraid of the slightest shift plunging you into the unknown darkness below. If only you would rest on me. I could teach you to swim, my baby brother, and perhaps then we could dive down and explore the wonders of the ocean, together.
You could see that there is beauty in nature’s arms, joy in surrounding yourself with loved ones. There is safety in imperfection. There is hope in making change for others going through the same struggles you have faced. There is happiness outside of distractions. Consume a little bit of content, that’s fine, but then use it to inspire yourself and others in ways that only you can. I know you can, I’ve seen you do it with me.