Dear Little Heat,

I miss you, and I want to talk. And I want to reminisce a little. So take a break from dancing with Ayush and pretending to be Gurmukh's lover, because you'll have plenty of game with much taller and more idiotic men when you hit college.


If there was one thing you were famous for, it was your penchant for trying to figure out things that were none of your business. You were curious. And it always got you in trouble. Remember that time everyone thought you'd swallowed a pencil sharpener? They turned you upside down and banged you on the back and shook you until you couldn't breathe, let alone get the words to tell everyone you hadn't swallowed anything. And speaking of talking. You never shut UP. For a girl with such a small mouth, you had an extraordinary amount of words. Your mouth ran 24/7, like the Energizer Bunny. And you always talked about the most useless, most idiotic things that made absolutely no sense. But somehow, you still managed to get people to like you even though you were so irritating. Mad props yo.


You were artistic. Remember that one time you tore apart the crayon box searching for a magenta crayon, and you were completely dumbfounded when the kindergarten teacher said she didn't have that color? You may not have been a perfectionist (mostly because you could never color within the damn lines), but you paid attention to detail. I remember this one time in second grade you had to choose a poem, memorize it and recite it. You picked this poem by Shel Silverstein (which I now realize was PERFECT for your personality), something about this guy who couldn't stop sneezing and had such a bad cold that in the end, he had to go get a circus tent and use it as a handkerchief. You couldn't stop laughing when you read the poem, and when you had to recite it, I remember how dramatic you were (you always were a drama queen) and how much expression you put into it. And I remember how loud you yelled when you had to pretend to sneeze. As a side note, my sneezes are still just as magnificent and loud as your sneezes were. I remember how your eyes danced when you recited it, how excited you were. You loved reading and learning. You always did.


You were always emotional. Everything you felt, you felt so strongly. I remember you had this clown doll that would sing Fur Elise when it was wound up, and every time you heard the song, you'd tear up a little. Even then, without having any idea of what the song was about. And I also remember how you cried when Mom told you the story of Frankenstein's monster and how he was such a social outcast. All the other kids in your class were scared of the idea of a monster, but you weren't scared; you just felt bad for him. Your emotions were strange. Even if you couldn't take care of yourself, you still took care of other kids if they were being picked on. Or at least you tried. You were naive, and you got your wakeup call in the worst way.


I don't know if you're gone. I see you in me sometimes. Your imagination, your creativity, your penchant for talking a lot and putting your foot in your mouth. That's all still there, but your optimism? Your tolerance? Sometimes I feel as if cynicism and scorn kind of suffocated you and left you to fend for yourself. Did you leave? Did you survive? I feel like the answer keeps varying and at the worst, most of you is gone from me. But I also know that whatever I have left of you will never leave me. Or at least, I hope it won't.


Thank you for the memories, Little Heat. Thank you for charming people and winning them over all those years, because I sure as hell can't do it now. Thank you for never letting the word "Why?" escape my vocabulary. Thank you for being imaginative and giving me a world (several worlds, actually) that I can enter when things go really wrong. Thank you for infusing me with passion and enthusiasm for damn near everything. As for you, little one, I hope you enjoyed the ride as much as I did.


With all my love,
~*Heat*~