There’s a lump forming on my throat, and I’m sucking in anger that begs to be known. Times like this, breathing takes too much effort. It’s like trying to compose yourself when all you want to do is shake and let your hands claw into fists and pray to the heavens above it doesn’t leave permanent marks on your skin. To be this tired, and angry, and frustrated at the world takes too much energy out of a person, that sometimes all I can do is cry myself to sleep and hope it gets better by morning.
I am not a sad person, neither do I consider myself unhappy. But I have a habit of suppressing and denying the bad thoughts when it’s there. I have a habit of pushing aside bits and pieces of a problem and piling it up into small stacks in the farthest corner of my mind. Mostly it just sits there and it remains forgotten. But then there are days when all the stress builds up, and everything just overflows. The mind may hold things into infinity, but the heart doesn’t. One way or another pain demands to be felt. And when everything I’ve pushed aside for so long suddenly resurface, it takes its toll all at once, and I am left with nothing but my heart to cope with through the turmoil.
Me Before You - Jojo Moyes
Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
One More Day - Mitch Albom
Norwegian Wood - Haruki Murakami
Attachments - Rainbow Rowell
The Geometry of Love - Jessica Levine
The Realm of Possibilities - David Levithan
A Lover’s Dictionary - David Levithan
The Fault In Our Stars - John Green
Looking For Alaska - John Green
Fixing Delilah - Sarah Ockler
The Glass Castle - Jeanette Walls
It’s Kind Of A Funny Story - Ned Vizzini
(I have so much more but that’s the only thing my mind can come up with right now)
Why don’t you tell me? Cause honestly I’ve been wanting to figure that out myself. There is really only so much you can assume from little hints people give off because:
1.) They could just be extremely friendly
2.) You’ve over analyzing their every move
3.) They could just be extremely friendly
So, ask. I think that’s your best bet.
(Personally, I’d just stay in my little bubble and have my thoughts linger and kill me to bits and pieces and add that person to my list of Potential-People-To-Love-But-Can’t-Because-I-Suck)
It’s hard but you just kind of do.
When you’re at a point in your life where you have nothing else pushing you forward, nothing else motivating you, how every failure one after another is making you feel like absolute shit, remember this:
It only gets better if you let it.
The answer is quite simple, really. But it takes a lot more than just words for you to be able to be satisfied with yourself, or your life again. Starting over takes time, but will yourself to. You pick up the rest of yourself and you walk forward. You get out of that hole. You strive to be better not for someone else, but for yourself. There’s nowhere else you can possibly go but forward, now that you’ve hit rock bottom. If you don’t want to be miserable all your life, will yourself to stop thinking about your past mistakes or failures because that is all in the word - Past.
You have all the right in the world to be sad
But if you let that one mistake or event that has caused you to be so unhappy stop you from exploring the rest of the world, and endanger you from your future happiness, then that choice is entirely yours. You hold the pen to your life. Although you might not be able to erase your mistakes, you do have the ability to go on to the next page and start fresh.
You get to decide how you want to live your life. So live it not from who you were, but who you will soon become.
Writers are a nocturnal bunch.
It’s when they’re wrapped up with nothing but their own thoughts echoing through the walls that they find the need to pick up a pen and scribble everything down just to make room.
“Time, is so much more appreciated when one has less.”
I make my way out the door, tiptoeing through muffled breaths and quiet snores one can only hope not to encourage early conversation a quarter past 5am. I kiss my mother’s head goodnight, locking the door behind me, still dark and human motion absent, I like the silence that engulf the air in these streets. The only sound you can hear from a mile radius is from my clinking boots, and almost my heartbeat. The moon’s reflection shimmering through the pavement below from the night’s rainfall, wet and damp from nature’s cry, I become aware of my own silhouette walking through an empty road.
I wonder how often one can cope with the idea of being alone in a city such as this. How well one can grow to accept the beauty in knowing one’s self first before anything else- to fully recognize the individual we let experience the world. A slight wind decides to greet me a good morning, leaving chills running through my back, how often does one get to say they are aware of their own minuscule presence in a world as big as this.
My feet make its way to the second cart of the train, leaving behind my thoughts to wander by itself almost out of routine. If I closed my eyes, I think I’ll still be able to find my way to where I need to go. From the train window I can see the sky ombré its way to another waking day, as if the earth whispered a compliment to the sky, it blushes through the horizon so sweetly I understand now why artists could paint so intricately through a canvas.
To even say It’s a beautiful August morning wouldn’t do the feeling justice.
“Maybe it’s just a matter of wanting it to work.”
You pick up your pace and start racing again in my mind, after all the times I’ve left you behind.
This is what happens when one revisits the past. When one walks through the places that held more than what it meant, how the tangibles fade away slowly out of anger and resentment. How one holds on to bitter sentiments, this is how a memory can only hold so little, how unreliable your mind becomes when forced to recall the important things. Those little details, gestures, words. This is what it feels like to lose someone.
There’s something about the rain that reminds me of you. How it creeps up slowly through the storm, then all at once. Leaving you unprepared, caught off guard, almost vulnerable at the turmoil it shatters your whole world only for a second, until the sun comes out to whisper "It gets better". It does get better, yes. Not through time, like people say it does, but through a decision. You let yourself accept the reality unfolding the way it should, how certain things end, how new doors open. Everything is a choice, like most. You choose to forget. You choose to forgive. To me, it was hard because to forget you was like having to choose between the earth and the sky, and that was the thing. You happened to be both. You were both the rain and the sun. The storm and the rainbow. The wrong and the right, you came as fast as the wind knocking down the walls I’ve build so high and so strong, It took you a second to leave permanent marks behind. It remains, almost forever. And we all know how forever holds such infinity.
I’m not exactly sure if the person I am now is the same person you first met with years ago. See, I’ve learned to let go of all the toxic uncertainties you taught me to keep. It was a lot more regretful having to remember the good days with you, because everything was just so perfect you couldn’t really see it all fall apart. There was no warning. No first signs to tell me it would break down to pieces like it did. But no matter, one can only choose to be bitter after so long.
I release you from all this wondering. i will no longer hold any part of you I still keep in corners of my mind. I am ready to fully dust away pieces of yourself you left behind with you, no longer hoping, no longer wishing for what could be. This is me closing that door.
I release you, wishing nothing but the best in all your future endeavors. You were loved, and will soon be again. This time, Just not by me.