I’m F — Asian, self-employed, alive and well in the middle of a glitchy, overconnected world. I like films that make you feel like the future already happened, books that smell faintly like static, art that doesn’t care if you “get it,” and business ideas that sound impossible until they aren’t.
But mostly, I miss letters.
Not emails. Not DMs.
Letters — the slow kind, written by hand, sealed with whatever mood you were in that day.
I miss walking to the post office like it meant something.
Choosing a stamp like you’re hacking time.
The taste of the envelope glue — slightly chemical, like instant noodles and nostalgia.
The pen that feels just right — like silk, graphite, and maybe a little danger.
It’s strange how analog things feel more human now.
My mailbox still has a physical key — old-school, like in retro New York movies. I like hearing the metal click. It reminds me that we still exist somewhere beyond the feed.
Letters are luxury now.
They’re rebellion.
They’re romance with bandwidth limits.
Write to me. Let’s build a slow conversation in a fast world.
>>>That was an AI writing that note! That's why its corny! But, oh the irony! For real, let's write each other like its 1995!