Of Love and Letters

My fascination for love letters continues.. here's another post. Did you know that the oldest love letter was for Delilah from Samson according to this publication here.

The other day, I stumbled upon a post of my six-month-roommate on tumblr about love letters. I smiled. The letters she received from admirers in her school and her class she scanned and posted on her blog. We discussed about love letters from admirers a few months ago. We shared the same opinion on how getting a hand written letter from a boy during elementary and high school years can make a little girl feel special. Also that awesome kilig feeling, if you happen to like the little boy. And how love letters when kept can, in fact, put back that smile of the girl's face. Sweet memories.

Today, I came across with this post of my one-day-officemate on her tumblr about, you guessed it right, love letters. Bitter.

Two both girls who received love letters in their past. Two different ladies with different point of view.

Keep your old love letters. Throw away your old bank statements. I live the The Sunscreen Song. I breathe it. I follow every word.

I have received love letters. Just few. I have kept them all. But there was one, just ONE, that I have torn into small pieces right after reading it just so no one would try to pick it up from the trash can and get to read it. That one letter, was a hate letter from someone I liked. That someone was my first boyfriend. That first boyfriend is my ex-boyfriend now. Right after reading his letter, I asked myself: should I keep this? I couldn't. Now I regret it. If that letter has survived today I can imagine myself laughing and smiling whenever I read those "hurtful" words he has written.

I pity her. I feel bad for the professor. And the rest of the students who listened to her and worshiped her advice.

Maybe I should share them Old Ronnie's love letters to Nancy. Many of them can be found here. One of them I find really endearing:
Dear Mrs. Reagan,
And you are Mrs. Reagan because Mr. Reagan loves you with all his heart. Every time Mr. Reagan sees the evening star or blows out the birthday candles or gets the big end of the wishbone he thinks the same wish—a prayer really—that so much happiness will go on and somehow be deserved by him.
It is true sometimes that Mr. Reagan loses his temper and slams a door but that’s because he can’t cry or stamp his foot—(he isn’t really the type.) But mad or glad Mr. Reagan is head over heels in love with Mrs. Reagan and can’t even imagine a world without her— 
He loves her
Mr. Reagan
I stand to burn bank statements and keep old love letters for many years to come.