Destroyed a few pages from old journals by slipping them inside the fire used to burn unwanted things.
I appreciate the memories but sometimes, we need to let go. Holding onto our precious treasures too much can make them damaged in the long run.
Weather is gloomy lately and the smell of the soil after the rain is nice. Want to burn an candle at night before sleep but the image of the flame dancing scares me.
Every time I close my eyes, there is this green/blue light flashing in the dark. It etches itself onto the lens of my eyes and is present after waking up.
There is nothing wrong with us, nothing wrong with the memories; only dishonesty and reluctance. They created a rift and we both are unwilling to cross over.
And mulling over the past doesn't change what has happened. We can only change how we feel about it in the present.
Therefore, just remember who I was and how I used to be. The current one is just a mere shell of the one that you liked.
A long period has ended, and so are the book of us. Close the book and shelve it away.
I am adding new pages every now and then. Let the mistakes forever be at the end of the book.
At the very mention of you, and a glimpse of you and the things you left, I can feel the blood from my face draining away.
I wonder if you are watching over me now.
Just keep up the prayer and know that I am trying to do my best without you.
Perhaps, one day in the future, we will meet again. Until then, I will do my best.
The neglecting is not a mystery. It is no longer a secret and to be relieved of the burden I carried for so long, keeping the fact that I kept holding on to something that is not mine; it is a bliss.
However, we must not be too happy.
There are things we need to forget, and there are things that we want to remember. But we are also prone to forgetting the ones we cherish, and reminded of the ones we wish not to recall.
I am trying to sort what's in my mind, and ending up with fragmented sentences and paragraphs. The ones I want to be the first is being placed at the very end. Disjointed words are thrown here and there, and I am rephrasing the subjects left untouched.
What has happened in the past years?
The diagnosis is true; once I am able to figure out the first few words, everything else will come like a torrent of unstoppable stream. Once it started, I would be unable to stop it and keeping it quiet won't be good to my subconsciousness. It needs to be let out, to be known to many. I have kept myself silent in the past years, and in the process, I wounded a lot by making them believe that they were unneeded.
In my mind, we are still there. Nothing is in our way and we are laughing at the real us that has been apart.
'If you have been kinder, you won't make the two of you suffer', said the imaginary me.
'If you tried harder, you won't be longing like how you are right now,' said the imaginary you.
The imaginary us is indifferent to all that has happened. They know, but they chose not to interfere. They used to, but they have been desensitized by the amount of neglect we did to each other.
Why am I reminding myself of the past when I need to move on?
I want you to notice this, but at the same time I am wishing that you won't. Maybe by making this long enough to make you lost interest in the middle, I can do that.
I want to make you respond to me, but at the same time I don't want you too. It would make it seem like we are still shackled to the past and it will burden us again. We won't be able to move forward then.
I wish that time will turn back, but that means we will need to get through all that once again.
What if I succeed in returning to the point where it all began to fall apart? For sure I would try to fix everything so we don't have to be sad in the future.
What if by doing that, I am depriving someone of his happiness? Knowing that I sacrificed another for my own, I do not think I can live with that.
But then again, I did that before and I didn't know it. The sacrificing part, I mean.
I want to stop everything. The world is revolving too fast and I feel like I am being left behind. I can try to keep up, but right now I am still winding up my spring.
I pictured my life to be a glossy blue bucket, the cheap kind that we can find easily in local market. The water inside indicates my will, and there is a small hole from which water leaks out. Sometimes it gets dangerously low and rarely it overflows. If I feel like it, I will refill the bucket so as to avoid looking at the bottom when I peer inside. Sometimes there would be a bump and the water spill out. Sometimes another person would pour their own water inside and rarely I give away mine for their buckets.
How will my bucket look like in the next ten years?
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