I’M NOT SURE WHAT TO TITLE THIS

This is unlike anything I have ever written before. This is not going to be me talking about an experience, this isn’t going to be me explaining to you how tragic my life is or how strong I am for getting through it anyway. This is an apology, an acceptance, an ode to my sadness and to the love of my life. 
 I am sorry. I have a tendency to write to people I owe apologies to.
I’ve been stalling writing this because I wasn’t sure I was ready to understand. But now? I am.

I am ready to accept, to understand and then manifest in myself the changes it brings into my life.
I am sorry. Yet again, I don’t think I have ever neglected anything as much as I have neglected you.
You have tried to comfort me, to show me what needs fixing and show me just how soft I can be. After a whole lifetime of living inside of a shell and starting to turn into it- you taught me that I am so incredibly capable of breaking out of it. You have helped me grow, you have taught me kindness, softness, a gentle ruthlessness that has pulled me in and out of the kind of realisations people have just before they are dying. You have been so important, and I am so incredibly apologetic about refusing to see you for what you have been.
There’s a quote in one of my favourite movies- I couldn’t see you when you were here, and now that you are gone, I see you everywhere.
It is unfair on my part to say that I miss you, I have fought so hard to have you leave. But it is even more unfair to not thank you for your stay- thank you for all that you’ve brought to my life, for all the memories I will hold so close to my heart for the simple reason that I couldn’t imagine having them.
I melt at the mere sight of your face because I haven’t known comfort like this before. A place so homely, you hold yourself down to it no matter how toxic you might make it for yourself.

I am listening to you. I have heard you, and I am grateful for having you around while I did.  

Whatever love we have had was maybe only meant to last us as long as it took me to understand that I am enough and always have been. They say stretching out the sadness is like watering a dead flower, and I am thankful about how wise you are, enough to know when to crawl back into whatever shell it is you popped out of.

I love you immensely, and if you come around again- I will be more gentle.

I will listen, I will accept and I will feel you completely.

I owe you that, and I will give it to you happily. Goodbye.

Love, 

Me. 
 

TO BUILD A HOME

As Cinematic Orchestra plays in the background on repeat, I can’t stop thinking about all the times I’ve lived, really lived under the delusion that these memories and moments and times will come back and I’ll live them over and over till every little detail is etched into my mind almost as if I made them.

I speak to you because I don’t know who else to talk to. I’m surrounded by people who claim to love me and act up on it too. But I’ve never wanted to talk about myself as much as I do now.
Back in November, i started working on my right to express and talk about myself and whine when I wanted to. I thought I earned it because of all the time I stayed absolutely silent for. fast forward 8 months, I’m writing to you because I find myself in the same position. Over and over. There are a few things that bother me right now.

Let’s start with this. I’m nineteen . All my life I’ve prided myself on how I’ve been ahead of my years and now I find myself getting repulsed at the very same thought. My personality, when not an absolute goofy waste of existence feels pretentious. Talking about my thoughts and real things isn’t something I’m very proud of. I feel like I should keep my voice low and my opinion or feelings unheard. Like they’re all an excuse to come off as someone I’m not. But that isn’t true at all. I feel guilty for expressing sometimes. Like I’ve committed a sin by not being rock hard and stone cold. Like I’m disappointing people by not being walking sunshine and rainbows. It doesn’t feel too nice.. It isn’t because they aren’t nice or anything, no. The people around me are great. Just not familiar. I’m not too sure if me talking around them is okay. Or if I’m crossing limits by telling them about my life and how it’s been. Or if I’m overwhelming them with all too much all at once. Or if they have things going on their lives and I’m being a burden. I’ve had the best of everything throughout. It’s not that I don’t want to make the skies look blue again, I just don’t know how to.
And then. The constant tracing back to times I’ve loved being in. Something feels so..strange. Like this big part of me got cut off or this huge chunk of life fell into the unknown. I’m not much for nostalgia. I’ve nearly lost everything i had and I’m still loosing, But things somehow manages to find its way to me, sometimes. I’ve traced things back to right where they stemmed from but I haven’t quite figured out what’s missing.

I’ve only ever heard of voids in chests and emptiness before, I feel it now.
I expressed a lot of love, I really did. But I’m not too satisfied. I don’t know if it’s because I’m disappointed in myself or the way that I said it. Or if I said it too early or if I regret saying it because it wasn’t the situation I pictured in my head. There’s always that one thing that just doesn’t feel right. And although everything else does, somehow something keeps bothering me.
Everything seems so..there. And I don’t want it to be. I want it to shatter or shine brighter or look hazy or something just not be so there.

I’ve lost so many people. Some I left on purpose and never looked back. Some were taken from me, and I never said good-bye.
It’s like I’m treading on a broken bridge knowing it’s about to fall but with every step i take, the previous one disappears and I can’t turn because there’s nothing but a solid void I can’t tear my way into or out of.

But afterall I don’t want myself fixed. Infact, nobody wants their lives fixed. Nobody wants their problems solved. Their dramas. their distractions. Their stories resolved. Their messes cleaned up. Because what would they have left? Just the big scary unknown.

‘Maybe loner is too strong a word, but I’ve always enjoyed being on my own.

And for all the people I can’t get myself to say this to,

I love you.

Please don’t forget that.