Dear Andy

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“For all that its worth I would have loved you until the end,
But I’m cold in your heart and you’re branded into mine.”
– Cold, Novo Amor

Your mom told me that you would love again, and when you do, you shouldn’t give it your all. Cliche, I know, but most of all, it just showed me how much I’ve grown apart from what she thought I am.

I love myself, of course. I try my best to be honest with how I feel, and I do try my best to love myself as much as I can. And part of loving myself is giving love as much as I can, not only to myself, but also to others.

What kind of person would I be, to think that I’d be loved fully, if I wouldn’t do the same to the other person? What kind of person would I be, to ask to be loved as I am, when I do not give my all? What kind of person would I be, to ask to be loved with no reservations, when I hold myself back?

I can almost feel my psychiatrist stare at my nape, knowing that I am fully aware of how risky it is to my well-being. My idealism, that is.It’s almost self destructive, I know. Self destructive because I am setting myself up for days when I could probably end up hurting again, and there isn’t much assurance as to how well I can handle it every time. Almost. Because if it turns out well in the end, I know I’d be happy. Perhaps it’s just that I have been hurt so many times by so many people in so many ways that I know that it is just part of my life now, that it is totally inevitable. Perhaps I have come to terms with the permanence of pain in my life. Not as a constant companion, but an old friend who visits me from time to time to remind me that I could only get stronger whenever I go through times like these. Ultimately, I have accepted that getting hurt would always be there, and that I shouldn’t be scared of it. And if pain would come and go, it would be nothing compared to the happiness that I could find different places, different people, and different circumstances.

I have also come to terms with myself. That this is who I am. That I would dive headfirst into something that I am passionate about, unafraid of getting hurt, if necessary. I might be an idiot for putting so much on the stake in the hopes of getting what I want. I am an idiot, I admit. Overly optimistic, even. And that’s fine, as long as it is my conscious choice to be one.

Someone asked me once why I’m so jaded with love, considering that I am still young. Well, it’s because it’s not just about love, giving and receiving it, the lack thereof, and such things. Mostly, it’s because of the things that come with it. It includes the kind of openness I give and ask. It has something to do with the vulnerability that comes with that level of openness. It has something to do with letting someone in after someone left and stormed the whole place.

I’m not in a hurry though. I am enjoying the solitude. I am enjoying the independence. And honestly, I have learned to appreciate my friends even more. I really do. Someone once told me that I have a bad habit of keeping things to myself too much. He is right, of course. But with what happened recently, I have realized how good it could be if I let others help.  I have realized how lucky I am that I have them in my life, and that I have found my people– those who understand me as I am, those who know my faults and everything, those who’d accept and be there for me when their idiot friend comes back running to them.

So yes, I am an idiot. My mind thinks I am strong enough to get hurt, and I won’t get scared, as long as it’s worth the risk. And life has compensated that idiocy with the amazing people I have in my life.

Andy, you and I both have no idea what went wrong. Or maybe you do, and you just cannot face it yet. Or maybe you know, yet you still continue to blame yourself even when he said it wasn’t about you.

Regardless, you know that you are a brave girl. Do what you must, and go through all the pain, shed all the tears, and when you stand up under the covers, you know that you are braver and stronger than you were the night before.

This wasn’t written on a particularly good day, but you know that you need to do this for yourself. You need a reminder, somehow, that you still haven’t lost your mind, and as long as you have that, you shall never be defeated.

You are a brave girl, you’ve been through a lot, you’d be through a lot more, but you are not alone. When all else fails, you know who to call. When you can’t take it anymore, you know who’d fight your fight for you until you can do it yourself.

Only you can help yourself, Andy. You know that. But don’t push people away from your life. Just let them love you, let them care for you, because it might not be the solution to your problem when time is , but still, it’s something you can’t live without.

Be brave, because you are. Trust your friends, because they are dependable, and you are lucky to have them as much as they are lucky to have you.

Til then, Andy. Til then.

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Things in Lieu of You

Fictional stories
Replaced emptied inboxes;
Songs and melodies
Instead of silly phone calls.

Blank ceiling and walls
In lieu of that smile;
A hand to my heart
Instead of my head to your chest.

Dreamless slumber
In place of sleepless bliss;
Cups of tea
Instead of drowning in the thoughts of you.

Deep sigh from the chest
In place of songs from the heart;
Silent nights in bed
Replaced warm embraces and tangled arms and legs.

Songs under my breath,
Words falling on deaf ears;
Verses to which I give birth,
Air passing by blind eyes.

Oh.

Oh.
It is the sound you make
When your heart shatters into thousands of pieces
And the patch of promises peels off
Revealing a gaping hole of broken ones.

Oh.
It is the sound you make
When no words could piece together
The thoughts and pictures rumbling through your mind.

Oh.
It is the sound you make
When there is nothing to do, nothing you could ever do
But leave things as they are.

Oh.
It is the sound you make
When your heart is left hanging
When you are sentenced to bleed to death.

Oh.