Dear Friend, we both know how cruel this world can be. Turning twenty in this chaotic and confusing world is indeed very scary. We both know what we went through and its okay to be scared. To be scared of living and existing when everything seems blocked and impossible. And I know how much you had to go through and struggle to be who you are. Life can be hard when you have a weight of responsibilities weighing you down, a family looking up to you for support and parents having huge expectations for you. And sometimes when it becomes too much, all you want to do is let go. It feels like there is no rainbow but endless storms, no shore but just unending ripples of water in the dark blue ocean and that the grass is not greener on the other side but just fields of dry weeds sprawling on the ground. I am not going to tell you that you will be okay or you have to try to be positive or to have some faith or that its just a phase. Because I know very well how it feels like to feel like the whole world is crashing down on you and how hard it is to try. To try anything at all. I know you want to quit everything and to stop feeling like it’s never enough even though how much you try. I don’t and will not act like a hero friend that saves the day and helps her friends who are going through a tough time because I myself don’t know what I am doing and I do not have the capability or capacity to tell someone to do or feel okay because I know its not okay. Nothing is okay in this world. We are in the middle of a pandemic and wars have been waged and nature is failing. And it will not be okay for as long as we live. But you see, the only thing we can do is survive. The world will not change for us or give us a concession for all that we’ve been through. But all we can do is take it one day at a time. Its alright if you have a mental block or you’re going through an academic slump. Its okay if you don’t do your assignments or you fight with someone you love. Its okay if it was your fault, its okay to feel like its the end and you want to end everything and its okay to cry and scream “FUCK THE WORLD!” from the top of your lungs. You know why? Because this is a cruel world and it will always be cruel so I think we deserve to hate and feel every possible thing we can. I remember a line from a series I recently watched. It said, ” you don’t have to prove who you are to anyone.” Be your own rainbow, be your own shore, water you own grass or weeds, anything you want.You are the unicorn of your world and the master of your doings. And it doesn’t matter who reads this and what they have to say because this is for you and that’s all that matters to me. I love you. Always hold life by the reins .Carpe fuckin Diem my dear friend.
Her body might belong to someone else
But her soul…..
Her soul was always his.
A blank page.
An empty room filled with smoke from the ventilator and drawings of four leaf clovers on crumpled papers sprawled across the dusty floor
A stained glass window shutting away the vivid world outside.
A Billie Holiday vinyl playing with a broken tune.
A half torn photo clutched tightly only as a reminder of the halcyon days.
A dreary looking figure with tired eyes fixed on the dull grey wall as if it was looking at the past
or perhaps the future….
The sun became shy and slowly hid itself as the world looked dimmer from inside.
The clock ticked more loudly like a countdown like it had a predestined duty to fulfill today.
An eerie question hung in the smoke filled room.
To perish to be remembered or to live to be forgotten?
Like the spring that comes right in time after a cold, hard winter.
Like how the red robin sings when morning comes .
Like the clovers that sprout and then withers away when their time comes.
Like the way I loved you enough to let you go.
The fact that you gave up first and ran will never change
So let’s just live every day to survive and pray that maybe in the next life I might love you a little less so that I could breathe easier and you might love me a bit more enough to stay.
Love feeds on fear.
The fear of fallacious honesty and true lies.
The fear of leaving behind or being left behind.
The sky was pink for a moment.
You painted an art with your presence and I shamelessly watched in awe until my heart grew fond.
Then it was dusk and the sky dimmed as it became dark and cold.
You effortlessly picked up your bag of paints and brushes and went with the wind .
For it was time to go home.
And I sat there unaware in the wake of your presence
Left alone with nothing but the unfinished art you left behind.
Lightings struck .
Clouds loomed over the crimson sky.
As the heavens cried with me for this
inutile longing of a hapless love you
delicately left behind.
The bedsheets are like sheets of white paper.
His body a pen which is delicately wrapped around my fingers.
His voice a poem.
As I write about love that only minstrels and gypsies sing about.
I love him.
I still love him.
But you see, it’s a different kind of love.
A love that transcends love and it’s culture of faith, trust, belief and loyalty.
The love of a woman who belongs to no one and everyone.
It’s my kind of love.
You gave me the world.
Your tears watered me to grow.
Your laughter gave me music.
Your prayers held me together on nights when my soul is seconds away from crumbling.
And your love…..
Your beautiful love..
The love you gave my father.
After another bottle smashed and your heart hurt.
The love so fragile yet stood by so strong for the love of her life and their children.
The love that encompassed all in this cruel, unforgiving world.
You showed me love.
You taught me how to love.
That unwavering, unconditional love.
I will be forever grateful having had this life and having you as my mother.
A cheap cigarette, the howling moon and
memories of you make a deadly