;

I know you are so much more than this.

I know you are so much more than the laughter and sarcasm, so much more than the cheerfulness and the excitement.

I know.

It’s nearing a whole year since everything “officially” happened though I’m sure it has already been more than a year “unofficial”. I’m thankful for everything that has happened in between including the harshest storms and the coldest nights, because at the end of it all I know by a miracle or not the sun will rise again. I’m thankful for the dreadful agreement I made that somehow brought you to me because it is really a blessing in disguise and I’m thankful for all the wrong paths we took that eventually made sense now that we look back at the past one year.

I congratulate myself for having seen something others did not – something that is precious beyond words to describe.

I celebrate myself for being weak when I should not – we overcame a distance we never thought we would walk.

You have a twinkle in your eyes that illuminates me. Your sincerity to me makes me understand how it is at all possible to trust someone wholeheartedly. You’re like a filament that never stops glowing – even when your flame is put off there is a spark still struggling to ignite again. Everything is crystal clear around you, even when it’s a muffled mess. Everything falls into place perfectly even when nothing is going our way.

You’re the brightest star that never shone in public. You’re a burning flame concealed in layers and layers of protection.

I’ve never been so captivated in my life.

Please, stay this way.

Clearing your room may not necessarily be a bad thing – you recover all sorts of surprises you never thought you’d see again. 

I found your letter tucked at the bottommost corner of my shelf and as much as I hate to deny, I opened it and reread all the stupid memories we shared. It was everything we had, over-dramatized by your usage of flowery words that I now know don’t mean a thing. It was the best effort you could summon, to print a 2 page long note when I would have written a book for you. Your letter never tallied to how you were in real life, as though language itself could lie from reality. I thought I was the stupid one, but now I know it is you.

It doesn’t matter how it began but I’m thankful that it all came to an end.  It doesn’t matter all the words you once said but what you did behind my back. It doesn’t matter all the “sacrifices” you attempted to make because you only did it when you could afford to. You couldn’t open the door when I was right beside you because you said you weren’t allowed to. 

It doesn’t matter how much access I had to your life because you only talked to me when you felt like it. Even though I was moved by the little secrets you shared with me I now feel backstabbed because ultimately you didn’t trust me.

I am stupid because I was so foolishly sincere to someone who didn’t understand sincerity.

But you are stupider than me because you gave someone sincere a reason not to be.

If you believe that people who care will never stop caring then you are wrong. I once cared so much that I hurt myself to sleep but in the end all you did was stick the knife deeper into me.

I am a very sensitive person. It’s not the first time I’ve been hurt by someone’s careless words nor felt inferior and unimportant beside someone else. I’ve had my fair share of life’s happiness and sadness as well as the feeling of being dirt trashy and absolutely downright lousy. I try hard but sometimes it doesn’t work and I still don’t get what I want. It’s like how when you were young and thought you were invincible and then you’re eventually forced to realize that there are certain lines that you simply cannot cross. 

I guess we’re all more or less fundamentally the same. We all have 2 eyes, one nose and one mouth, right? But why are we so vastly different? Why does she have so many comments even when she knows she’s doomed to die? And why do I appear so nonchalant when I actually cannot stop caring? Does she know that every word she speaks is a lie to her dignity? Can she hear her heart screaming for help above the noise she makes in an attempt to cover herself up? 
Is your laughter genuine? Then why does it always seem like you’re sticking a knife inside you to laugh in public? Do you really think she smiles because she means it? Why can’t you see the helplessness in her smile? 

Are we all blind? The lines on her skin and the hidden blade stuck within her chest.

Can I kiss it away? Can I remove the daggers you stabbed into yourself? 

It’s not your fault. It’s really not your fault.

But at least I’m lucky to have you.

Admidst a whirlpool of mess at least, my soul found you.

And everything will be okay with you.

It’s been slightly more than a week now since the thunderstorm, the weather forecast is less rainy but at the very most it’s still partly cloudy. Every day, there is still a little drizzle but at least there is no longer pouring showers.

At least, the doors that slammed shut are ajar again. To my pleasure, the landlord hasn’t left.

I don’t know how I first stumbled my way to this door, but I know it is hard to locate and even harder to open.

So if you’re reading this, I will attempt knocking at the door again.

I will gather all the pieces of glass and delicately piece them back again.

Imperfection is the pinnacle of perfection in your eyes.

The reformed pieces shall be stronger than its perfectly unbroken counterpart.

Have you ever wanted to write so badly but never managed to come up with something decent because you have so much things to write that you don’t know what to write?

And before you finally manage to settle your fingers down on something concrete you hesitate because your grammar and sentence structure turns out like shit. 

Procrastination and laziness eats into you and your brain turns into gel and stops functioning completely, and you ask yourself why do I even exist.

For the simple fact that you’re meant to do something meaningful before you go. For the simple fact that one day your ordinary life will turn slightly extraordinary for the simple ideas that you suddenly generate and achieved success to some extents. For the moments in life that changed you, a new passion discovered, a new friend, a stable lover you thought you’d never meet. Your changing opinions, your brand new experiences, the unexpected surprises and life’s ever changing constant.

And maybe it’s all meant to be unknown in the know. And maybe your fate is destined like a show. One day, you’ll join the dots and realize that everything you’ve done intentionally or not, clicks into place and shapes you. Every little action, every twitch of the thumb screams for an upcoming event. If you stopped breathing, make sure you’ve done everything you wanted to.

It’s tragic how accidents take lives away like it didn’t matter. Unforgivable mistakes still has to be forgiven because nothing can change the happening. Even death sentences are just equivalent to taking another life away with the concept of give and take. Life does not at all times make sense, but when it does it’s pretty great.

Or at least, that’s how everyone hopes to believe in.

But I know that in the end, we’ll all wither.

I hope you never underestimate the power of careless remarks.

We are but a fragile sheet of glass beneath our solid exterior, we sway in the wind but her words knocked me down; like a bullet.

She is not bulletproof, but neither am I.

“It’s like she had a soul that was much too big for her; it filled her to the brim till there was no more space, so it flowed out through her eyes.”

Nick Lake, In Darkness

      

Every breath hurts when I breathe, knowing that I can’t reach you and the only thing left to do is wait. 

But waiting slowly nibbles at the edge of my heart and eventually pulls it into pieces.

I think my life is off beat, I think I’m out of sync without you.

I still have to live day by day, except with blisters on my feet from dancing too much alone with your ghost.

/6 days/