Always my dear, and here I am standing still, thinking about how restricted my happiness is. Imagine discovering your fears in the embrace of the person who helped you fight everything that even came close to scaring you. There are some things you never expect to happen, and then there are some situations that don’t even exist.
To not hate you is my essence, you giving me reasons is a humiliation. Am I angry? Yes, I am. I feel a rush of resentment flowing through my veins, and I’m impatient enough to keep a track of my feelings. I let my tears scorch the dry cheeks that once held a smile of your name.
We use a pen to write their name and always search for pencils to scratch it away. I never thought I’d be sad enough to feel myself and not you because all my life I’ve been you, and I thought I’d always be. Even in parts, I’d always feel whole.
You owe me a lot of things, at least the things I deserve. I know the truth is a lie. I search for your eyes to stare into and fecklessly breathe ruins of love left inside me but you’re not here, and you owe me your presence ‘cause I’m aimlessly trying to figure you out.
Amidst the infinite curves of my smile, I’ll always have a wrinkle of your name. I’m not scared of nightmares anymore, I’m just scared of closing my eyes. It’s a silent chaos, an irregularity I’m not even trying to fix. I wish you were just another heartbreak ‘cause the things that break coalesce one day. You’re an absence, and I’m murmuring questions I deserve answers of.
So dear you, always my dear, I hope I let go of this regret but if I fail, I want you to know that I’ll always hope you to be the person who’d put a rose on my grave. The same rose of love that had hurt in its thorns that we promised to keep holding on to.
I’m disappointed that it’s real and I wish I could wake up from this because it’ll always be a bad dream for me. I’m writing this letter to you not because I’m waking up but because it’s time for you to help me come back to myself.
This is a confession, and I hope you know how I am.
//Been writing a lot about hurt lately, so here's an open letter to the person who've hurt you. See if you can relate, or feel this one//
Clarity is rarely one's forte. There is no one in the world who could master it. And the result is always mishaps and mistakes. It is easy to walk away from mistakes. But the reality is, one won't understand it until it's too late.
We try to look at the bigger picture. But never it is clear. All we see is vivid fragments that we wish to see. And between them is the cold gaps of reality. The ones that we don't dare to look into. So each one looks and sees what they wish to see. And never are they the reality. We live in a world of our own and as a result of this partial truth, biased opinions rises.
What the others think to be wrong might be your right. Whatever the world feeds you, should not fall in your ears. Do what you feel is right and stick on to it. And it will all turn right. Always.