A LETTER TO KAFKA

"Look around, Ted.

You're all alone."

Dear Franz,

If you were here, I would have made you watch this show called “How I Met Your Mother”, especially the moment when Ted realizes that he’s all alone, and it’s pointless to chase destiny (not the stripper...well, in German, a stripper is called “Burlesk-Tänzerin.” Not exactly this, but it’s a close reference). You would have understood, I know. You would have known me then, if you had seen me crying over it for hours. I would have told you that every night I’m in awe when I look at the moon and wonder how beautiful it looks in all its phases. I would have also shown my concern for the neglected side of all these phases. And probably, you would say, “A moon is a moon, and it’s beautiful no matter what phase it’s in and so are you. Even the neglected parts of you.” Then I would have felt seen, heard, and understood.

And yet, sometimes I wish you were here, standing beside me, watching me fall apart. I would have shown you the pile of books I couldn’t finish, the empty notebooks staring back at me, and the dreams I left at the back of the closet. You’d probably smirk and say something sarcastic — something like, “I too had dreams once,” and we’d both laugh. A quiet laugh. The kind that doesn’t really break the silence but makes it heavier somehow. You, of all people, would have known how that feels. To hold on, not to hope, but to the remnants of a belief that once carried weight, only to find that it’s slipping, inch by inch, out of your grip.

I think I would have told you about the hours I spend staring at the stars, wondering if they too are tired of shining for people who barely notice them anymore. You might have nodded, sharing my melancholy, saying how even the stars eventually burn out. And I’d say, “But does anyone care, Franz? Does anyone really care when they do?” Maybe you’d tell me it doesn’t matter if anyone cares, that their fading isn’t any less significant because of it. That their worth isn’t tied to someone noticing their light, much like mine.

But you are not here, and no one is. So, with time passing by, I’m starting to believe in destiny a little less, a little less, and a little less. Unfortunately, I’m not Mr. Mosby, who’ll get up one day and start believing in it again. Perhaps, like Ms. Scherbatsky, I’m becoming more skeptical, believing magic does not exist, and accepting whatever is happening around me.

But you’re not here, and no one is. And with every day that passes, I feel like I’m becoming more like one of those fading stars — unnoticed, unimportant. Destiny? It feels like a concept meant for someone else, not for people like me. People who are slowly, but surely, realizing that not all of us get to be the stars of the story. Some of us are just the background, the sky that holds everyone else's light.

Maybe that’s why I can’t get myself to believe in magic anymore. It’s not just the fairy tales or the destiny we used to think would come find us. It’s the idea that we matter in the grand scheme of things, that there’s something out there waiting for us. I’m not so sure anymore. I’m not even sure if I ever was.

But if you were here, maybe I wouldn’t need to believe in it. Maybe I’d be okay with fading into the night, knowing that at least someone, somewhere, would have looked at me, if only for a moment and thought, “There she is, beautiful, even in her decline.” Maybe then, the quiet would be bearable.

But you’re not here, Franz. And neither is anyone else. So I’ll keep moving, keep fading, until eventually, I won’t be visible at all. And maybe that’s how it’s meant to be.

"Ted, this moment already is gone. The whole 'Minnesota Tidal Wave' thing happened five years ago. It's just a memory. And the rest of this never happened. Right now, Marshall and Lily are upstairs, trying to get Marvin to go back to sleep. Robin and I are trying to decide on a caterer. And you've been sitting here all night, staring at a single ticket to Robots vs. Wrestlers because the rest of us couldn't come out. Look around, Ted. You're all alone."