Letter #13

Dear M,

I thought I would resist myself somehow after that day. I hoped that I won't write to you anymore because I understand I was harming your sanity. I never meant to do that, not once. 

But I think I am not the kind of a person who deserves to even have friends, let alone be romantically involved with anyone. 

I have begun writing a novel about Mumbai. It's basically about a girl's relationship with a guy who is the epitome of everything Mumbai stands for. And how their relationship evolves in the city and gradually decays. 

I am unable to concentrate. I cannot think what I should write next or how I should approach. I am simply stuck. And now I think I will neither make a good writer.