A bright day it is, but it is still gloomy here.
Say the truth, you said. I was not paying attention before, and now I do. It is one year overdue, though. These papers written for me, laid untouched until the owner is long gone.
I went out and watched people going through the motion of their own life. There is no hatred here, or so I thought. In this country, where everyone put on the mask of obedience, I find that a lot of pent-up emotions are being kept barely in check.
Within a lot of people, there are some voices unheard, and is meant to echo inside the owner's chest until it dies out. I tried to understand, but what can I do when even I am being kept busy with my own voices? At most, I attempted to connect to these people but I cannot see that what I do is enough.
"You can stop running. Aren't you tired?"
Those words, I am still remembering them. Words so kind I feel like they were not meant to me. I hold onto them so tight that I might break them apart. It is the truth, I think.
Repentant as I want, there still linger some thoughts that the past connection still bind me to the people who has gone away. Emphasizing that these are mere remnants of affection for the ones who are not here anymore, I sometimes lay in my bed recalling what me and those people had gone through. A lot of these are memories I have written down in fear of being forgotten, but it seems like the more I am afraid, the more they begin to fade.
Maybe some things are not meant to be remembered, after all.
I find it harder still to reveal my thoughts to people. Even to those I consider close. Now and then, there would be someone that try to coax me out from my own thoughts, but eventually they will back away, possibly thinking that it was not worth it. After all, dragging me away from places I am comfortable in will only result in me longing to get back there as soon as possible.
In the process of growing up, I wounded many people. What I thought were jokes are actually being perceived as insults by some, and the things people said to be that were meant to be constructive criticism I took them too negatively. Alas, I may have said things that disrupt others from achieving their dreams and becoming an obstacle that keeps them away from what they consider as the dead end of their life.
Being around you is fun, and talking to you is something that I enjoy. However, I have the tendency to push people away when they start to get too close. I know, and I have wounded you from my attempt to preserve the sanctity of my personal space, but the one at fault is me. Not you. A few months ago, we talked too much that we eventually ran out of things to say. While I was comfortable with the silence, you misinterpret it as me not wanting to spend more time with you. You started to get closer and closer, trying your best to not make me feel alone, but it was not the case. You tried to get me into your world, wanting me to see things the way you see them, but I was not ready for it, I am still not ready, even now. I tried to follow what you do, and agreed to accompany you to the things that you enjoy, but I did not feel like myself during those moments.
And by the end of March, we stopped talking abruptly. I was scared that we got too close and will feel pain when we are separated one day. You sensed my anguish and relented.
To this day, I am not sure if I did the right thing or not.
No comments:
Post a Comment