A Letter

"...You can always achieve dreams if you could work hard for them, i always hear. But how hard would I have to work to go into a world that I doubt even existed? The world itself was manifested from human thoughts themselves... How would a world itself exist in reality, when it was only made from the drawings of an artist? "

I close the browser after some frustration to the final question, and sighed. One hand shuts the laptop and lays it on top of the desk, while my other hand to the desk lamp to switch off the light.  My room becomes engulfed in darkness once more, as i stand up, pushing my seat away from me under the desk, with the back of my legs, and plop myself on the cool covers of my bed. I laid there in silence, listening to the low hum of my old air conditioner, listening as the hum changes to something similar of a breeze, indicating that it adjusts to keeping the room at a constant temperature.

If I had been given the opportunity to leave this world into a world where peace and harmony reigned the lands, I would do that any day.  This world...

I smoothly drift into a deep sleep.

I open my eyes and quickly sit up to see if I had finally left.

The room was brightly illuminated by the morning light. The plain sight of my room had caused me to groan in disdain, as I groggily get out of bed, lifting the heavy sheets meant for the cold weather, I get up from my bed, my bare feet standing on the frigid wooden floor. It was an icy pleasure to walk on the floor, yet I wouldn't endure it for so long as I wood seek out for the revered long socks in my drawers. Same shit, same day. It really felt as though it was the same day, as if I would walk through the exact same events as the previous day.

As usual, I brush my teeth, go downstairs, open the freezer chest below the refrigerator, and search for months old TV dinner as a suitable breakfast. After shuffling through the frozen stones of meat and endless bags of vegetables, I realize that the dinners were finally depleted.

Damn.

A boring surprise to the stagnant lifestyle of my days living in the home of my parents. There was no food, and shit, I was hungry.

I walk to the front door to see if any mail had come in. Not specifically me, since mail never comes for me... unless I order something materialistic to keep my insanity at bay. I open the door, reach to open the mailbox left of the entrance, and grab a handful of mail sent to the lovely, exciting home.

I sat down onto the chairs of the small table, throwing the stack of mail in front of me. I rummage through the mail to find the plain white envelopes abundant in the pile.

"Bill, bill, bill... Hmmm bill, not for me...  Not for me... 'Urgent! Respond ASAP for a trip to Hawaii!!!' Huh, I wish... Hm? Whats this?"

A tannish envelope. It seemed old by the way it looks, without an address or anything...

"Strange...", I whispered to myself.

I flipped the envelope with the utmost importance, fearing that the envelope would tear or break. The back seemed to have wax enclosing it... Along with writing inscribed to the back of it.

"To you."

To whom, specifically? Why was this sent here? How did the postal service not find this mail in the first place? How did it even get here in the first place...

Upon closer inspection, the wax had a mold shaped as a horseshoe.

And where the hell is this from?!

Questions ran through my mind as would a stream full of runners in a marathon.  Alas, the questions began to whisper as move my hand toward the wax mold, and from whispers they subsided to silence upon taking it apart from the sheet that it was stuck to.  I opened the letter, lifting the flap, and taking out the contents of the letter.